Constellations
by TheVelvetDusk
Summary: "Time ticks on all around her, but she sits without a word and lets the darkness close in, lets it sweep her far away from the life she once knew." This last family secret might be the one that breaks her. Picks up directly after 1x16, The Red Scare. [ lyatt all the way ]
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N :** ummm to start with, BIG apology to anyone who got really excited about a new story from me and then got really super bummed when they realized it wasn't for PLL (or Gilmore Girls, which has now also betrayed me, IS NOTHING SACRED?). But anyway, spam me with hate mail if you need to. You've earned that right._

 _Secondly, MY NEW FAVE SHOW IS **TIMELESS** AND EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH IT. ...unless it gets cancelled, but watch the first season anyway. No regrets, it's that good. I am so dead over this show. I was basically permanently done with writing FF until Wyatt Logan and Lucy Preston demanded otherwise. I haven't shipped anything this hard in a longgg time. Ugh. #RENEWTIMELESS_

 _Lastly, I do not own any of this, I am not NBC, blah blah blah. If I owned it, it would be on the air forever and ever amen._

* * *

 _"Rittenhouse would never allow it."_

 _"How do you think I met your father?"_

 _"And that almost makes you royalty."_

Lucy hears the same fragments of conversation swirl around her repeatedly, the consonants and vowels blurring together in a rhythm so palpable that she can almost reach out into the space in front of her and snatch the words right out of the air, ball them up in her fists and throw them as far as humanly possible. But she doesn't move, can't send a signal to her cemented feet, can't run or hide from this home; the house that keeps getting further and further from the one that exists in her memories. The walls, the furniture, the glow from the fireplace, and the looming staircase - it all looks the same as she's always known it to be, and yet everything blurs together and rearranges into something far more sinister and cold.

Her head is spinning. The silence swallows her whole. Every rational instinct has long since left her, abandoned her in this place that is no longer recognizable. How long she's sat in this spot, she has no idea. Time ticks on all around her, but she sits without a word and lets the darkness close in, lets it sweep her far away from the life she once knew.

 _"Rittenhouse would never allow it."_

* * *

Wyatt Logan's head snapped upward the second he heard the click of heels moving briskly down the corridor of Mason Industries, finally able to release an exhale of relief at the sound. The Lifeboat was still a little more than an hour from reaching a full charge, so it wasn't as if there was any pressing reason for her to get back quickly, but Lucy had said she'd be one hour. One hour for her to run whatever errand she'd left to accomplish, and then she was supposed to be here, probably full of nervous energy while rambling about the finer points of etiquette in 1979 and her grand scheme to make her mom fall in love with Henry Wallace all over again.

So when his watch chimed at the top of the hour, he'd expected to see her come striding in at any given moment. Finding himself weirdly disappointed by her tardiness, he'd paced the room for a while, then moved on to wander around the rest of the facility, discreetly checking to see if anyone else had seen or heard from her, glanced down at his watch about a hundred times a minute, and finally settled into the staff lounge area several minutes ago. She still wasn't back. If that weren't bad enough, their last conversation was reverberating through his brain without reprieve, filling him with a tornado of unexpected emotion. He hadn't felt much of anything in the years since Jessica had died; his senses had been dulled, leaving him numb to the rest of the world that supposedly still existed beyond his own heartbreak. To say that his developing feelings toward Lucy had pulled the rug out from beneath his feet was a massive understatement.

And now she was back, safe and sound, and it was all he could do to not leap up from the couch to greet her.

Except the sound of clicking heels didn't belong to Lucy. It was Agent Christopher who appeared in the doorway, and the bleak look she sent in his direction was enough to send a zap of dread straight through him.

"Wyatt," she gave him a clipped nod in acknowledgement, "do you know where Lucy is right now?"

That zap of dread turned into a full-on flood of panic. The question was posed with her usual no-nonsense tone, and yet he instantly identified a waver in her voice, a nearly invisible note of dismay that confirmed the worst. "No. She said she needed to go do something and would be back in an hour. It's been almost two."

"And she didn't say wh- "

"No, she didn't tell me where she was going or what she was doing," he said in a rush, already on his feet and ready to follow Agent Christopher's next order, whatever it may be. "Do you know something?"

She pursed her lips together in a compact line for an agonizing second of silence before answering. "The tech team assigned to sorting through Cahill's Rittenhouse files uncovered new information. It was deeply encrypted intel, something Cahill himself probably didn't understand when he recorded it."

"What? What is it?"

"It's Lucy's mother, Wyatt. She's Rittenhouse."

He turned his head away and closed his eyes, her announcement slamming into him with a physical force.

"We're leaving to make the arrest now, but I wanted to break the news to Lucy first. She's...she's not answering her phone."

He lifted his gaze, shell-shocked and pissed off all at once, an ugly string of curse words flying out of him just as her cell began to buzz from the clip at her belt. Wyatt watched as she pulled the phone from her hip in what felt like slow motion before she shook her head at him, immediately deflating the balloon of hope that had formed in his chest without his consent.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this," she said abruptly, darting back into the hall with the phone's speaker already pressed to her ear.

"Like hell am I just sitting tight in here," he muttered to no one, racing after her without hesitation.

Within seconds, the entire compound was swept into utter pandemonium, agents buzzing around from one spot to the next like a swarm of disrupted bees. Wyatt caught the news in bits and pieces, barely tracking with Agent Christopher as she charged into the melee without a glance backward.

The Mothership was gone, stolen again, a collection of bodies left in its wake.

There was still no word from Lucy.

Pendleton would definitely have to wait now.

* * *

Impatience rattled through Wyatt with the gusto of a train chugging right off the tracks. He had already double and triple checked everything from his ammo to his shoelaces. If they didn't get a green light to proceed in the next 30 seconds, he was going to break down the door himself, consequences be damned.

 _"Yeah, I was thinking about texting you the next time that I need a reckless hothead."_

Wyatt shook his head, trying to free himself from the echo of Lucy's voice from earlier in the day. If he let himself go there - relive that conversation _again_ \- he'd never be able to concentrate on the task at hand.

An entire SWAT team was stationed a block away from the Prestons' home, and while he knew he was only invited along as a courtesy - certainly not a move that aligned too well with protocol - his initial gratitude toward Agent Christopher had long since evaporated. Lucy's car was parked in front of the house, an unavoidable reminder of what he stood to lose if they didn't get in there sooner rather than later. There was so much waiting, so much damn red tape, so much wasted time.

Time that could be the difference between Lucy living or dying.

He growled under his breath, suddenly nostalgic for the kind of mission where he was the expert in combat, the only one with any tactical credentials. There was no hierarchy limiting his every move or bureaucracy breathing down his neck once they took off in the Lifeboat. Just a team of three: the soldier, the engineer, the historian.

And there he was, back to thinking about Lucy...about the way her eyes lit up when she got all starstruck over meeting a beloved historical figure, the vision of her high-heeled foot pressed dead center against the chest of his Rittenhouse-appointed replacement as she called out to him in total victory - _we're okay, we made it_ ; the way she watched him as he maneuvered the straps of her seat belt into place, how her hand shook inside of his own after Lincoln's assassination...

"You ready, Logan?"

He promptly came to attention at the sound of his last name, nodding and falling into position near the back of the group. They were finally on the move, and as much as he wanted to be on the front line of the operation, this was good enough...for now.

Agent Christopher caught his arm just as they closed in around the yard's perimeter, fixing him with a knowing stare. "Follow their lead. No heroics, got it?"

He smirked in reply, masking his inner turbulence in the only way he knew how - with glib deflection. "Got it. Same to you."

And then he was off, boots squishing through the damp night grass, praying that they weren't already too late. Or better yet, hoping that this whole thing was a ridiculous misunderstanding, and that Lucy would crack open the door at any moment, wrapped in that floral robe with sleep marring her hair and features as she scrambled to comprehend why her front lawn was suddenly engulfed with government agents.

But she didn't come to the door. No one did. Agents spilled into the warm light of the entryway, all scattering in different directions, shouts of "clear" already beginning to ring out as they swept from room to room.

On nothing but instinct, Wyatt took the stairs three at a time, forcefully ignoring the memory of Lucy sitting there with tears stinging her eyes after he dropped the bomb about stealing the time machine to save Jessica. He quickly spotted a black-clad agent systematically searching through the first room on the left, so Wyatt chose a room at the opposite corner of the hall and began to do the same. If he was being honest with himself, it already felt like a lost cause. The house was too quiet, too still. If Lucy was here, she would have found a way to reach out to them by now, even if she was being held captive. She was more resourceful than he had ever expected her to be, and a fighter at the core - the woman did not give up, not even in the ugliest of circumstances. She knew what it meant to be down, but she was never out.

Defeat began to take over as he left another deserted room and shouldered his way into the next. Once again, he was met with nothing. No noise. No movement. An empty duffel bag sat open on top of a perfectly made bed, but that was it, not another thing was out of place.

And just as he was ready to turn back to the doorway, he saw it.

Saw _her_.

Just a hint of dark hair was visible between the antique dresser and an overstuffed leather chair, an impossibly small alcove formed by the two pieces of furniture. Impossibly small to him, anyway...but for someone as slight as Lucy...

Wyatt holstered his gun slowly, his voice nearly trapped somewhere inside of him. "Lucy?"

It was thunderously quiet. The sound of his own labored breathing dominated the air.

"Lucy?" he repeated with a shudder running right through her name. He moved closer, his fear becoming so overwhelming that he thought he might be sick to his stomach. Once he'd rounded the edge of the bed, part of her forehead came into sight, and then all of his training took over as he reassessed the area and then cautiously nudged the chair to the side.

Her body was curled up into a tiny ball against the wall, most of her face hidden against the tops of her knees, her arms wound tightly around her legs. He knelt in front of her, unnerved at the complete lack of reaction. She remained motionless...unresponsive. He reached for her, automatically in search of a pulse, but the moment his fingers made rustling contact with skin, she flinched violently away from him with a startling whimper.

"Oh my god, Lucy," he breathed out, overcome with relief. "It's okay, it's just me. It's okay."

But as he reached out a second time, she flinched again, another sharp whimper emanating from her huddled form.

 _Shit_.

With one last lingering look of desperation in her direction, he reluctantly turned his head and called out through the house - "I have a civilian up here, send in the medics!"

His request was met with an affirmative from somewhere that seemed very far off, and then he returned his attention to Lucy, the weight of his concern and affection mingling together as he took a moment to collect himself.

"Hey, Lucy...it's Wyatt. I..." he paused as his voice splintered, blinking several times before continuing. "I'm here now, okay? Whatever it is, whatever happened, I'm here and I...I need you to be okay."

Her head moved a fraction higher, a glimpse of her brown gaze coming up over the curve of her knees. The electricity that surged through him at that - at simply seeing her eyes - was almost his undoing. He sent a flimsy smile back at her.

"Hey, there you are," he whispered. "Help is on the way, alright? It's -"

His words were swallowed right up as a swirl of heavy footsteps and shouting voices filtered into the room, fracturing the fragile atmosphere he'd been working so hard to maintain. Tears immediately filled her eyes, her breath came out in wrenching rises and falls, her body shaking with earthquake-like tremors.

"No, Lucy, it's okay," he miraculously kept an even tone, his hands coming to rest on either side of her face, locking their eyes together. "They're the good guys, I promise."

He whipped his head to the side to address the influx of field agents and EMTs - "Would you guys cool it for a second? You're scaring her."

The EMTs took his cue and began to dispel the rest of the crowd, but Wyatt paid no mind to the specifics of what went on around him. He found her watery gaze again, tried once more to calm the panic that had overtaken her. His thumbs stroked slowly over her cheekbones, and if he took comfort in nothing else, at least she wasn't shying away from his touch anymore.

"I know about your mom, Lucy."

She tried to look away from him then, and from somewhere in the background he distantly heard Denise Christopher admonishing him for being so blunt, but he pressed on with confidence.

"And I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. But you aren't alone, okay? We will get through this just one thing at a time, remember?"

There was no verbal response, not even a nod to let him know that she'd heard his reassurances, but she was meeting his eyes again in spite of the tears that ran down her face and slipped against the skin of his palms.

"One thing at a time," he repeated tenderly, "and for right now, we've got to get you checked out by the medics, make sure you aren't hurt...so just breathe, okay? Let them do their job. I won't go far, you have my word."

Her mouth trembled, opened ever so slightly, and to his astonishment she responded with a stuttering, "o-okay."

He felt his own set of tears threatening to come to the surface, but held them back for her sake. Wyatt smiled with a shake of his head, in awe of her for what felt like the millionth time in just the course of a few months. "Atta girl. I'll stay close, okay?"

It felt like he was being pried away from her with a crowbar, but it was nothing as dramatic as that. He simply stood on reluctant legs and got out of the way, the aftereffects of stress and adrenaline beginning to seep into his consciousness. He watched with his heart in his throat as the EMTs took his place and began their examination. Lucy closed her eyes, responding to their hushed questions with a small nod here and there.

"Wyatt? A word, please."

He glanced upward to see Agent Christopher observing him with an unreadable expression. He acquiesced with a heavy sigh, following her out of the room and into another doorway directly across the hall, planting himself there with half an ear still attuned to what was happening in the bedroom he had just vacated.

"You can relax, she's in good hands," she offered with a consoling look.

Wyatt just shrugged, not interested in being placated. "I'll feel better when I can get her out of this house and away from all of her cracked-out family members. Benjamin Cahill was one thing, but this..? It's insane."

She lifted a solitary eyebrow at him. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"About Benjamin Cahill? I thought he was in custody at -"

"He is,"she interrupted with a nod, "but I meant the part about getting Lucy out of here. I certainly appreciate your assistance tonight, but - "

"But?" he broke in, feeling his spine prickle at the thought of what was coming.

"I think that's enough for the time being. You should go home and get some rest, let Homeland Security handle this until we have a chance to formulate our next move."

He gritted his teeth together, trying to keep his cool in spite of her not-so-passive attempt at dismissal. "Handle what, exactly? I'll gladly go home and let you sort out this mess with Rittenhouse and the Mothership, but what about Lucy? Where is she supposed to go? Obviously she's not staying here."

Christopher tilted her head, her face not betraying a single emotion. "I will deal with that, Wyatt. That's my job, not yours. Lucy will be fine with a little time."

"Look..." he started, his brow pinching together as he stepped further away from where Lucy could possibly overhear him. "She may be in a state of shock right now, but it's gonna be so much worse when she snaps out of it and has to deal with the truth all over again. When that happens, she should be with someone she trusts...and that list just shrank down to what - four people after today? Rufus and Jiya have their own crisis to deal with, and I can't imagine that you're exactly available to put her up at your house after what just went down in the last few hours. You'll be lucky if you get any sleep tonight, let alone do you have the time to look after her." His jaw clenched with an aggravation that could not be curbed despite his best efforts. "I'm her best option."

"I realize that there aren't many alternatives right now, but I have to consider the bigger picture for everyone involved. Lucy is extremely vulnerable right now, and I know your intentions are noble, but ultimately I think this arrangement of yours may do more harm in the long-term than it will good."

He recoiled at her words, a scowl stamped deeply across his features. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Don't take it personally, Wyatt," she returned with a shake of her head, "I'm just trying to do what's right for the both of you. I'll set up a safe house for her to stay in, something outside of the city with a team of agents patrolling 24-7."

"A safe house?!" He spun away from her for a moment before turning back with fire in his eyes. " _That's_ your idea of doing what's right for her? Locking her away in some random place, surrounding her with strangers, and isolating her indefinitely when - "

She cut him off with steely resolve. "Until we can help her transition into something more permanent, yes. That's the plan. Now you tell me - are you prepared to do the same? To take her home to your apartment, _also_ indefinitely? You think that's a sustainable solution for her right now? Have you thought through the implications of that setup?"

Wyatt's posture shifted backward, anger lingering in his gaze while the rest of him seemed suspended in disbelief. His voice came much softer this time, grim resignation lining each word. "This...this is about Jessica, isn't it? You don't think I can handle it. I'm reliable enough to follow Lucy through several centuries of history, to protect her from Flynn and enemy armies and a million unknowns, but not reliable enough to give her a safe place to sleep and eat in the twenty-first century?"

"I know you mean well, Wyatt, but from where I'm standing, the situation is...complicated."

"Complicated," he repeated with a scoff. "You don't think I'm - "

His reply was cut short by a weak voice ringing out from somewhere behind him - "Wyatt?"

 _Lucy_.

He glanced down for a moment, trying to compose himself before he took one last shot at Agent Christopher. "If this is really how you're handling this, you can be the one to deliver the news to her. I'm not signing off on it."

With that, he was taking quick strides across the hall, instantly dropping to the floor next to Lucy.

"I'm here," he said, gripping her hand in both of his without garnering any response. She just stared blankly ahead as if she hadn't been the one to beckon him to her side. He waited another beat, hoping in vain for something more before turning his attention to the medical personnel who had begun to pack up their equipment.

"So? Did they...is there anything...?"

The woman closest to him mercifully intervened before he had a chance to complete his fumbling attempt at a question. "She's unharmed. No obvious injuries, doesn't seem to be suffering from any type of drug interaction. Her current condition was most likely triggered entirely by psychological trauma."

Wyatt nodded, the tightness in his chest becoming slightly less suffocating. Not exactly fantastic news, but at least she hadn't been hurt physically.

The second paramedic studied him with sympathetic eyes before speaking up. "She'll probably go through big shifts in mood and temperament over the next several days, sometimes acting more withdrawn like what you're seeing now, with bouts of confusion and - "

"Thanks," he interrupted with a weary sigh, "but you don't have to keep going for my benefit. The symptoms are all too familiar."

His concentration was back on Lucy, the room around him dissolving to insignificance as he scanned her face apprehensively. "Lucy? Hey, you with me?"

Nothing.

He wove his fingers through hers with one hand, lifting the other to cup the side of her face with as much gentleness as he could manage. "C'mon, ma'am. I know you're in there."

He held his breath for several seconds, his heart pounding erratically when her big dark eyes darted toward him and came into focus. "Wyatt. Hi."

"Hi," he countered back at her, a smile threatening to break his face in half at the scratchy sound of her voice. He pushed a chunk of wavy hair away from her forehead with a shaky exhale. "You shave a good five years off of my life every time you go missing. I hope you know I'm holding you accountable for that."

"Sorry," she murmured back with the slightest hint of a grin. The expression faded away quickly, though, and her eyes slid shut after another moment passed.

"Lucy?" It took all of his willpower to not squeeze the living daylights out of her hand. "You okay?"

"I just want it all to go away."

Her whispered words were barely audible, but he hung on every syllable, desperate to find a way to keep her tied to reality. He searched for the right thing to say, a way to reach through her grief and offer her a way out of the despair, but who knew better than him that there were no magic words to make it better?

So he let go of her hand and inched closer, carefully easing her body away from the wall and into his own, his arms going around her as her head dropped to his shoulder. His cheek pressed against the crown of her dark hair for the second time that day, setting off a chain reaction of warmth and devotion that disarmed him in surprising ways. The sense of similarity between this moment and the one that had occurred just hours before at Mason Industries struck him so forcefully that he was almost breathless. Here he was hugging her to him like his life depended on it, strands of her hair matted into his stubble and her head tucked against him like it had always belonged there. But for all of the commonalities, the differences were far more staggering. He could have never imagined that the next time they embraced like this would be on the carpeted floor of her childhood bedroom, with Lucy hovering somewhere between hysteria and trance-like oblivion, her entire world rocked to the core... _again_.

And as much as he wished that he was holding her under better circumstances, there was nowhere else for him to go, nowhere else on earth he needed to be.

And to hell with anyone who tried to take her away from him.

* * *

 _reviews, s'il vous plait_


	2. Chapter 2

_a/n: I wish I could have gotten this done sooner, but here it is! Chapter 2! And just wowww I cannot believe the support of this fandom. You guys are incredible. I've never had this big of a response to just one chapter of anything else I've posted on here. Thank you so much for the kind reviews, faves, and follows. I hope this one lives up to the hype! It picks up pretty directly from the end of the last chapter. Enjoy!_

* * *

His eyes have been trained on the same corner of the ceiling for only God knows how long, staring without seeing, awake without a thought in his head. It wasn't as if he didn't have some rather urgent issues to attend to; quite the opposite, really. But he wasn't going anywhere until Homeland Security forcibly removed him from this spot, so there was really no point in stewing over the possibilities of what came next. He chose to be here, in this moment, for however long it lasted.

And it had already lasted much longer than he'd anticipated. Denise and her team were still milling around, making phone calls and rummaging through the house in search of something that would tip them off as to what Rittenhouse was planning to do, so caught up in their own activity that he could almost assume they had forgotten that he and Lucy even existed. Not that he minded at all. Wyatt had certainly killed time in much worse ways, and one of the more advantageous benefits to his years of military service was that he had the fortitude to sit still indefinitely, to compartmentalize the chaos and focus on what mattered most. His sole objective was ensuring Lucy's safety, a task that had once again become just as much about the mental aspect as it was the physical. It was one thing when she was dealing with the pressures of being out on the field, having a meltdown at the thought of maintaining her cover in Nazi Germany or distracted by how much she missed her sister while chasing down Jesse James across the perilous American frontier; to know that the real battlefield had been right beneath her own nose all along, here in the year 2017...? That was going to be one hell of a hump to get over.

His gaze strayed to the doorway just as Agent Christopher reappeared, acknowledging her presence with an impassive look before she had the chance to clear her throat by way of announcing her entrance. She silently regarded the the two of them for several drawn out seconds, and if Wyatt had been one to easily feel plagued by self-consciousness, this would have been an awkward moment. Lucy was limper than a rag doll in his arms and had been that way for quite a while. Her face was still resting in the crook of his shoulder, the fragrance of shampoo or hair product - like _he_ knew the difference - lingered all around him, surrounding him with the type of soothing smell that made him feel some elusive emotion that he hadn't experienced in years. The small weight of her body was languidly pressing into his side and his head was tilted across the top of hers, a solid reminder that she was just where she needed to be, no longer missing or at risk. He wasn't sure when exactly she had drifted off to sleep since he couldn't see her face at this angle, but the steady cadence of her soft breath against his neck had been an easy tell - she'd been out like a light for at least half an hour.

To put it simply, this wasn't exactly normal behavior for coworkers.

"I have good news and bad news," Denise spoke offhandedly, as if he hadn't been aware of the fact that she was sizing them up, clearly forming some type of opinion about him in her moments of quiet observation. "Homeland Security is swamped, and now that we're down a whole lot of agents after that hit on the Mothership's warehouse facility, headquarters can't supply us with enough reinforcements to man a round-the-clock safe house. It looks like you're Lucy's best option after all."

A twinge of relief spread through him, but he betrayed none of it in his expression. "Which part of that is good news? Sounded all bad from your perspective."

She didn't take the bait. "Is that your cavalier way of telling me that you've changed your mind and are no longer available to put her up for the night?"

Touché.

"Thank you for asking, ma'am, but that's a no," he answered with a halfhearted grin. "Are we free to go?"

Denise smirked back at him in spite of herself. "Yes, although I don't recall ever making an attempt to detain you, Wyatt. I've assigned Agent Hemphill here - " she gestured toward the woman who'd blown into the room just a moment ago - "to pack up some essentials for Lucy in an overnight bag. We'll have the rest of her things boxed up first thing in the morning and stored at Mason Industries until further notice."

He nodded slowly, sorting through the information and plotting his course of action as fast as he could. "Can someone give us a lift to Mason? I rode here with your team."

"One step ahead of you on that - two agents are ready to take you and Lucy directly to your apartment complex. We will send a car in the morning so that Lucy can come in for her debrief."

"Don't you think that might be a little premature, all things considered?" An edge had crept back into his voice, a small spark of resistance that was fully prepared to flair back to life so recently after their last disagreement.

She held a hand up, stopping him there. "I'm not arguing with you again tonight. Go home. I assume I'll be seeing you tomorrow."

"Fair enough," he said with a glance down at Lucy's motionless form. Wyatt hated to wake her - to bring her back to this nightmarish reality - but not even he had the capability of getting out from under her without causing a major disruption. He carefully shifted to the side, keeping his arms around her as he steered her back against the wall where he'd found her.

He was halfway to standing when Lucy let out a muffled whine.

"Shh, it's okay. We're just going - " he paused mid-sentence, realizing that he had been a breath away from calling his apartment 'home'...as in _their_ home. Weird. "We're just going back to my place, okay?"

He sent a fleeting look back at Agent Christopher. "Car's ready?"

"Car's ready," she confirmed with a terse note in her voice. "Take good care of her, Wyatt."

A sarcastic reply was on the tip of the tongue, but he found he couldn't bring himself to treat that order lightly. Instead he responded with nothing more than a succinct nod. Crouching back down in front of Lucy, he put a hand to her face and murmured for her ears only, "C'mon, professor...time to go."

Her eyes fluttered open as he began to maneuver her away from the wall once more. "...Wyatt?"

"The one and only. Looks like you're stuck with me now." He pulled her up to her feet, keeping his hands firmly planted beneath her arms. She took one rocky step forward before her knees locked up and Wyatt tugged her forward on instinct, resulting in her small frame colliding softly into his. He wished he could tease her, chalk it up to a routine bout of trademark Lucy Preston clumsiness, but it was hard to find any amusement in it this time around. "Alright, up you go."

He swung an arm beneath her legs and had her bundled in his arms and against his chest in a flash, already moving to the hallway before Agent Christopher could somehow change her mind about this whole scenario.

Lucy's fingers sought the collar of his jacket, her feeble protest coming at him like a delayed reflex. "You - you don't have to carry me, Wyatt. I can walk."

He snorted, his mouth twisting into a grin of its own volition. "That's why they hired me, remember? To do the grunt work and heavy lifting."

"Did you just call me heavy?" she mumbled, her face nestling against his neck and causing an inadvertent spike in the rate of his pulse.

"Never," he returned with a good-humored smirk, "I own backpacks that weigh more than you."

She muttered another retort, something about Delta Force and maybe even calling him a jerk somewhere in there if he heard correctly, but most of it was lost, muffled by the material of his coat and the sleepiness that burdened her voice. He didn't bother with a response, knowing without looking that she was already well on her way to unconsciousness again. Wyatt made his way down the steps with care, doing his best to avoid jostling her unnecessarily. An agent stood ready at the front door, motioning him outside and leading the way to a dark-colored SUV idling at the curb. It wasn't as smooth of a transfer as he would have liked, but before he knew it, Wyatt was situated in the backseat with a more-or-less unruffled Lucy draped against him. It was with a touch of irony that he found her seat belt and clicked it into place before reaching for his own. By the time they were all settled, her overnight bag had been delivered to the trunk and then they were off, rolling through the midnight streets in a determined course toward his apartment.

Wyatt knew that he should be making some sort of mental to-do list, thinking through sleeping arrangements and the particulars of when he could slip away to restock his barren wasteland of a kitchen, but his brain refused to latch onto any of the practical details that required his attention. He just watched the blur of yellow streetlights as they sped across the city, keeping an arm securely around Lucy, tethering her to his side every time their driver took a wide turn or braked a little too hard. He felt restless and alert, and was somehow simultaneously exhausted at the thought of what lie ahead. It was better to not think, to just stay present and move on autopilot like he'd been trained to do.

 _One step at a time_.

Thanks to the lateness of the hour, the drive passed fairly quickly and mercifully without incident. He passed his keys to the agent sitting shotgun, murmuring his permission to go in with her duffel bag and make a precautionary sweep of the place while Wyatt focused on the task of getting Lucy out of the vehicle. Her eyelids didn't so much as flicker as he gingerly removed the seat belt and effortlessly scooped her back up into his arms.

"Heavy, my ass," he muttered beneath his breath, the corner of his mouth lifting at her earlier accusation. It was strange, being near her all this time and barely hearing her utter more than a handful of words since he'd initially found her. It wasn't so long ago that he would have given anything to get her to shut up for two seconds while she'd been ranting at him for ignoring orders and tarnishing her attempts at historical preservation. And now here he was, holding onto their last meager conversation like a refugee clinging to a life preserver. Her silence left him feeling hollow, aimless.

He was up the sidewalk and hovering at the door in no time, breathing out a sigh of relief when the agent returned with good news - the apartment was clear of any threats.

And then before he knew it, he and Lucy were alone. Together.

Wyatt made a beeline for his bedroom, prioritizing Lucy's comfort above all else without a second thought. He slowly lowered her onto the mattress, then removed her shoes and blazer before stopping and taking stock of the situation. He knew she would be more relaxed if she changed into something else - pajamas that he assumed had been packed into that duffel bag on her behalf, or something of his if need be - but was that worth waking her? He wanted to disturb her as little as possible, remembering just how traumatizing it was to be abruptly pulled in and out of sleep when in this state, feeling more anxious and disoriented with each interruption.

He settled on letting her sleep, deciding to leave a pair of his sweatpants and an old t-shirt folded on the opposite corner of the bed in case she woke on her own and didn't see her bag on the other side of the nightstand. With that taken care of, there was nothing left for him to do but slide the bedding out from beneath her and rearrange the sheet and comforter over her body. Her head dipped sideways against his pillow once she was all tucked in, her dark hair fanning out behind her and her limbs curling up to one side with a contended little exhale. She seemed so small, practically disappearing in the sea of blankets and pillows that surrounded her, her face looking more at peace than he'd seen her in weeks.

And damn him if she didn't look like she belonged there. All he needed to do was crawl in next to her and the picture would be complete.

He turned away with a groan, feeling rattled at the direction of his own thoughts. Neither of them were ready for that, not tonight anyway.

So instead he grabbed a change of clothes for himself and left the room, cracking the door enough to give her some privacy, but not enough to muffle all noise in case she needed him at some point. He dragged himself through the motions of his nighttime routine, barely making it to the couch before fatigue descended upon him with a vicious force.

* * *

Wyatt had been a heavy sleeper at one point, the type who often dozed through his alarm and was consistently running behind schedule every morning. Those days were long behind him now. Basic training had knocked the lazy right out of him from very early on, but then add in the consequences of his tours in Syria and Afghanistan and some very bleak, sleepless nights after Jessica's death, and he had essentially learned to function for days at a time without ever finding real rest. It had been no issue for Wyatt to acclimate to those middle-of-the-night phone calls from Agent Christopher whenever Flynn decided to go joyriding through time at the most inconvenient of hours. He was a soldier. He was used to it.

So when he jolted awake in the total darkness of his living room a few hours later, he honestly wasn't sure if something had triggered this sudden alertness or if it had just been nothing more than a wasted reflex. A nightmare, a memory, a neighbor slamming their door, whatever...

But then he remembered why he was on the couch, and for once it was not because he'd drunken himself into a whiskey stupor and never made it back to the bedroom. It was because of Lucy.

His gun was in his hand in an instant, snatched up from where he'd purposely left it within reach on the coffee table. He had fully intended to follow protocol and systematically check every shadowy corner before looking in on her, but then her frightened voice rang out through the apartment and protocol went to hell after that. He burst through the door, gun drawn and half-expecting an escaped Garcia Flynn to be there with a knife at her throat, but in a split-second it was clear that she was alone in the room. No Flynn, no Rittenhouse, just Lucy.

But it was Lucy unlike he'd ever seen her. She was gasping for air, her arms fighting against the covers as if they were a malicious enemy. Most of what she said was unintelligible, but the words "no" and "help" spilled out of her repeatedly as Wyatt left his gun on the dresser and dropped onto the bed next to her, pinning her arms down in his hands.

"You're dreaming, Lucy," he called out, his voice even and firm. "It's just us here, no one is going to hurt you. You're safe."

Tears streamed down her face as she tried to pull away from him, weakly mumbling something he couldn't quite catch. He tried once more, this time lowering himself flat against the mattress and rolling her into the safety of his arms. "Do you hear me, Lucy? It's a dream, nothing bad is gonna happen to you, okay? I've got you."

Her body gradually went slack against his, relinquishing the tension of her nightmare little by little with each passing moment. He kept whispering reassurances against her ear, begging her to trust him, to believe that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. She burrowed closer, a hand coming to rest searchingly against his chest as if she wasn't sure if he was actually there or just another product of her imagination. He didn't dare move a muscle. He would stay for as long as she needed and then slip away once he was sure the dream had passed and all was well.

But it wasn't long before Wyatt was lulled into a place so warm, so sheltered, that sleep claimed him just as fully as it had already claimed her.

* * *

 _to be continued!_


	3. Chapter 3

_a/n : Hey I'm back! A lot of this chapter practically wrote itself, so hooray for that! I thought there would be only one more chapter after this, but I didn't get quite as much content in this one as what I expected, so we'll see...maybe 5 chapters total? IDK, but THANKS A BILLION to all who have reviewed & I'm sorry that I didn't get a chance to PM anyone this time around, but I love hearing from all of you. Hope you enjoy this one :)_

* * *

Sunlight danced across Wyatt's face, warming him, wrapping him up in a comfortable hold that felt new and old all at the same time.

But then his head slowly cleared of it's sleepy haze and he suddenly knew that it wasn't just sunlight that was making him feel that way. He cracked one eye open and it all came back in a rush.

Lucy...Lucy was in his bed.

He was quite literally wrapped up in her, her face so close to his that he could count each individual eyelash splayed across her pale skin. She was curled forward into him, his leg wedged between both of hers, one arm thrown around her waist, her head using the inside of his other arm as a pillow.

And judging by the amount of light filtering through the room's lone window, he had somehow managed to sleep much later than he had in months, maybe even years.

Before Wyatt had a chance to dwell on that particular thought, a far-off buzzing captured his attention, grounding him in the reality of their situation. This wasn't a vacation or the aftermath of a successful date. This was his job. Or more accurately, had become so much more than a job ever since he'd gotten his head together after a bad trip to the '80s and a brief detainment in Rittenhouse's bogus government custody.

So he carefully - and very begrudgingly - untangled himself from Lucy, pausing for just a moment to be sure that she was fine without him before he staggered toward the living room in search of his ringing cell phone.

* * *

She didn't want to move from this spot.

That was the first thing she was aware of - just how much she dreaded waking up, wishing to avoid daylight indefinitely. She couldn't quite put her finger on why she felt so strongly about staying asleep since she'd always been a morning person, but facts were facts. She just wanted to sleep.

And for a little while longer, that's what she did. Some vague sense of unease nagged at her as she drifted back through a bizarre dreamland, but she knew she was safe and so she chose to ignore it, to push it away for now.

But she couldn't put it off forever. Her eyes eventually opened, then promptly shut again to ward off the blinding light that greeted her. Then she tried again, immediately noticing that her fist was right in front of her face, and that she was tightly clutching something without reprieve. It was...a shirt? She had a death grip on the t-shirt in front of her, and that shirt was attached to Wyatt Logan.

She glanced up at him, her vision still blurred with sleep, but there was no mistaking that look on his face. She'd only seen it a hundred times.

He was sprawled out next to her, his phone in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other, already fully dressed and looking down at her with that cocky, unnerving, one-sided smirk. The one that's made her blood run hot from day one.

"Good morning, ma'am."

Oh damn him for always being so smug.

She tried to pry herself off of him, but her body was reacting sluggishly and wouldn't obey easily. Her fingers finally got the message though, relenting in their grasp on him so that she could inch away slightly.

"Umm..." she blinked with effort and attempted to clear the fogginess from her voice, "Wyatt?"

"Yes?" he answered impishly, the smirk still in full effect.

She looked down at her outfit, something of her own- something _modern_ \- that she remembered putting on a while ago, her blouse now miserably wrinkled beyond repair.

With another look at him, her suspicions were confirmed. He was also in present-day clothing.

"What year is it?"

Now the smirk bloomed into a wider smile. "You know, at any other point in my military career, I would have automatically assumed that one of my guys had a concussion if he asked a question like that. But somehow on this assignment, that's practically a routine inquiry."

" _Wyatt_ ," she breathed out impatiently, rolling her eyes at his stalling. "Please just answer me."

"God, it's good to hear you talk like that."

She almost snapped at him again, but then she saw the seriousness reflecting in his blue eyes, took note of the weighted sincerity that had lined his words. It instantly put her off-balance. She knew she was missing something, because since when was it a relief to know that she was annoyed with him?

He seemed to shake himself out of whatever strange reverie he had been experiencing, his expression going more neutral as he finally answered. "It's 2017, Lucy. We're in our own time."

She nodded, still feeling a bit bewildered on several counts, but at least she hadn't somehow forgotten that they were actually on a mission through history or something. "Okay..."

Lucy sat up slowly, already missing the proximity of his warm body but quickly shoving that feeling down to wherever it had come from. She scooted to the edge of the bed, swung her legs over and made a move to stand, but found herself overcome with dizzy resistance as soon as she tried to get her feet to cooperate.

"Hey, take it easy..." Wyatt was at her side in a flash, his hands on her arms as he guided her backward against the headboard. "I'll get you some water, okay? Just sit tight."

He was gone and back again in what felt like nothing more than mere seconds, but she took advantage of his brief absence and let her eyes drift over the unfamiliar room. There wasn't much in the way of decor, mostly just stark furniture and the occasional trinket or framed photograph scattered around at random.

"Here," he said quietly upon return, standing over her and offering an uncapped water bottle.

She took it gratefully, surprising herself with how much gulped down at her first opportunity. She closed her eyes for a long moment, some repressed memory trying to worm its way into her brain. "Are we...is this your place?"

His pensive stare was drilling into her face when she opened her eyes again. "Yes."

Lucy ignored the obvious follow up questions - what happened last night, why was she sleeping in his room, what the hell was going on with her head - and instead asked something that she didn't fully comprehend even as it came out of her own mouth. "Something bad happened, didn't it?"

She could read the apology in his gaze before he uttered a word. "Yes."

Hesitancy marked his features, and without asking, she instinctively knew that he was battling with whether or not he should deliver the information that she was so clearly lacking. She made the choice for him, her voice at nothing more than a whisper. "Just tell me, Wyatt."

He took the bottle from her hands and set it on the nightstand before taking a seat directly in front of her. He suddenly looked older to her, worn out and sad despite the stoic façade he was trying so hard to maintain.

"Lucy...your mom - "

She flinched backward against the headboard, a strangled noise ripping from her throat as her hands flew up to stop him. It was childish really, the idea that she could just block his next words by raising her hands as a barricade between them, a flimsy protection from the truth that she had just asked him to provide. She couldn't look at him, couldn't bare to see the sympathy written all over his face.

"Lucy," he tried again, his anguish plain in the tortured sound of her name. He took her hands in his, coaxing her forward, but she refused to collapse into him. If she did - if she broke down and sobbed into his shoulder - that would make it real, wouldn't it?

"I just need a minute," she said flatly, fighting for a scrap of control.

"Okay," he returned without any urgency. His hands didn't release hers, but he also didn't press for anything more. He was steadfast, unmoving.

God, how would she ever have done this without him?

She took much longer than her requested minute, the silence stretching on without interruption for what felt like hours. To his credit, Wyatt showed no signs of discomfort or restlessness. Lucy kept her eyes closed and focused on breathing, in and out, in and out. Her fingers clamped down on his like he was the lifeline to sanity and she would disappear forever if she let him slide away from her.

Her mom was Rittenhouse. Her _mom_ was Rittenhouse. Her mom was _Rittenhouse_.

 _And that almost makes you royalty._

Oh God, was she Rittenhouse too? Could you really be Rittenhouse without even knowing it? Was it inherent, a part of her DNA, an unavoidable birthright passed down by her parents?

"No," Wyatt ground out with barely restrained anger, "you are _not_ Rittenhouse. They don't decide that for you."

She hadn't even known that she'd said something aloud, but apparently she'd put the source of her anxiety out there for him to hear without even realizing it. Either that or Wyatt was a damn psychic. Although that might not be so far from the truth since he always seemed to know exactly what was going on in her head, a trait that would have been seriously irritating if it wasn't usually so helpful.

"The way she said it...the way they all talk about it - my mother, Benjamin Cahill, even Charles Lindbergh - it's like there's no way out. Like I was born - "

"You cannot be born an asshole, Lucy. These Rittenhouse dicks - sorry if that's insensitive at this point - they choose to go along with this. They choose to continue on with this madness. _You_ choose to do good." His voice softened, became lower and inviting. "You care about doing the right thing."

She finally met his gaze, feeling paralyzed by the amount of heartfelt conviction in his eyes. She leaned closer to him, drawn to the strength that so naturally radiated off of him; the strength that she was severely lacking at the moment. His hands moved up her arms and came to rest on either side of her neck. She wanted to say something, to at the very least thank him for telling her exactly what she needed to hear, but the words didn't come.

And just when she thought that maybe he was about to communicate something to her that didn't require words anyway, his phone began to vibrate from where it sat on the other side of the mattress.

Wyatt blew out what appeared to be a frustrated exhale, letting go of her entirely while his eyes lifted to the ceiling as if he wanted to rip a hole in the roof.

She watched him - partially disappointed, partially relieved - for several seconds before finding her voice. "Aren't you going to answer that?"

"Nah. I already know who it is."

Lucy waited for him to continue, but apparently he wasn't volunteering anything else unless prompted. "And?"

He smiled at her, clearly enjoying her exasperation. "It's Agent Christopher. She's checking in to make sure I've been able to keep you alive for the last 45 minutes...you know, since the last time I talked to her."

"She's calling that often?" Lucy asked with a raised brow.

"Hey, you're in high demand these days, Lucy Preston." His teasing grin dimmed a few notches before he went on. "Our presence was expected at Mason Industries first thing this morning. I told her it could wait until you woke up, but she's under a lot of pressure to find out what happened last night...which is why she's calling for the third time in as many hours. That, and she's worried about you, of course."

Lucy took a deep breath, already shuddering at the idea of being prodded by government agents to relive that horrific conversation with her mother.

"Look, you don't have to go in right now if you don't want to," he spoke gently, squeezing her shoulder with assurance. "I can put her off for a while longer."

It was a tempting offer, and she knew he would do it in a heartbeat if that was really what she wanted, but what would it solve? When would it be easy for her to talk about it?

"No, I...I should just get it over with, shouldn't I?"

She looked up at him, desperately needing him to tell her that she was making the right call.

He didn't let her down. "Probably. And the sooner she knows exactly what happened, the sooner she can do something about it."

Lucy scoffed in return. "That's unlikely. I screwed it all up, Wyatt...I-I panicked...I don't know, but there's no way I have any useful information. If anything, I showed my hand way too soon and - "

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," he cut her off with a shake of his head. "It's not like you went in with the upper hand. You were totally blindsided. No one is expecting you to do anything but tell the truth about what you remember. And besides, there's a good chance that you'll say something that's more helpful than you think, even if it seems insignificant to you now."

She still had trouble believing that, but his confidence did give her a thread of hope. His phone started ringing again, and Lucy somehow found enough humor in his irked facial expression to manage a tiny smile at his expense.

"Tell her I'll be ready soon," she said with a nudge to his arm. But then she instantly wanted to retract that statement as she reexamined her rumpled outfit from yesterday and ran a hand through her knotted hair. She must look like a walking disaster.

"You look fine," Wyatt murmured with a dimpled smile, once again proving that he was way too good at reading her every thought. "But you'll be happy to know that Agent Christopher sent a bag of your things with us."

He gestured over her shoulder, and there it was, her duffel bag sitting there on the floor next to his nightstand like she was a regular overnight guest who casually stayed over for the fun of it...like they were a real couple, not just two players who were trapped inside of an endlessly unbeatable game. It caused an odd pang in her heart, reminding her of a life that she would probably never have.

"Lucy? You okay?"

She forced herself to meet his concerned eyes. "Yeah, fine. Can I use your bathroom?"

He nodded, still keenly examining her for any signs of escalating distress. "Of course, it's right across the hall. There's a closet in there with towels and whatever else...just yell if you need anything."

"Thanks," she mumbled back before rising to her feet, grabbing her bag, and making a hasty exit.

She felt Wyatt's vigilant gaze on her back the whole way there.

* * *

The practical side of his brain knew that there was no reason to over-analyze Lucy's current mood. He'd been there, had ridden the roller coaster of PTSD on more than one occasion, had seen the effects of trauma in himself and recognized it in a hundred others. Hell, he'd even seen it in her before. This was nothing new to him.

And yet somehow the not-so-practical side of him was winning out. He'd felt a rising barrier between them from the moment she'd left for the bathroom, and it had remained firmly in place ever since. She was vanishing behind a self-imposed wall and he couldn't find a way in no matter how hard he tried.

They were on their way back to Mason Industries, once again stationed in the backseat of a generic government-issued SUV, but it was nothing like last night's excursion. For starters, the entire Grand Canyon might as well have been between them for how far away she'd positioned herself against the opposite window. She sat primly, her posture stiff and disciplined as if she was out to tea with the Queen of England. Her eyes - usually so wide and expressive - had avoided him with marked purpose. She'd only spoken a few times in the last hour, and never without prompting from him. Even then, it had been all one word answers. Yes, she'd found everything she needed in the bathroom. No, she didn't want anything for breakfast. Yes, she was ready to go.

It shouldn't have bothered him.

But damn it, he was bothered.

He'd stifled the urge to help her into the car, to ask her a million times if she was really okay - because of course she wasn't - and had even stopped himself from checking her seat belt like a paranoid control freak who couldn't take a hint. It was obvious that she didn't need his assistance, not that he actually thought she _needed_ it. She knew how to buckle up in a normal car. She wasn't an idiot.

So with an embarrassing amount of resolve, Wyatt had done his best to give her space and keep his hands off of her, but that was getting harder and harder all the time. Their mission to protect history from Flynn had naturally shoved them together in a variety of ridiculous scenarios. Close quarters seemed to be a fundamental part of the job. Their knees knocked together every time they sat across from each other in the Lifeboat. He'd made a habit of seeking her arm whenever danger was near, rushing her through the woods as they dodged gunfire in the 1700s, yanking her body into the shelter of his own as explosions went off all around them in the trenches of the Alamo, tugging her down the steps and shielding her from view as McCarthy's guards searched for them in 1954. And then there was the small fact that Wyatt usually found himself partnered with her more often than he did with Rufus out of pure necessity - Lucy was able to blend in and play a part where Rufus was unfortunately limited by the racist assholes of basically every time period. It hadn't been intentional, but Wyatt had just gotten used to having Lucy nearby, always in his personal space for one reason or another.

Like that time they spent a solid 12 hours pretending to be a couple for the benefit of Bonnie and Clyde.

Okay, so not the right moment to start thinking about _that_.

He was mercifully saved from the memories of that particular mission when the car came to a halt at the entrance of Mason Industries. Once again, Lucy was out of the vehicle before he had a chance to say or do anything, but it was just as well. It was probably a good thing that she was acting this aloof right before she went into her debrief. If her plan was to detach herself from her emotions and just bulldoze through it as quickly as possible, then that might work for the time being. Certainly not the best long-term solution to her grief, but Wyatt had made worse choices than that at his lowest points. He could respect her for trying to attempt some version of self-preservation.

With the expectation that he would be dismissed immediately by either Lucy, Agent Christopher, or both, he made his way past the conference room and went straight for the locker room where he'd last seen his car keys. He could use an hour or two to go on a grocery run or something, anything to go distract him from every bad thing that had happened to his team since they'd first taken that damn time machine out to see the Hindenburg land safely - and then not safely - in the wasteland that was New Jersey.

But he didn't get far before his name rang out through the corridor. He turned back to find Agent Christopher eyeing him like he'd grown a second head.

"Where are you going?"

He shrugged, feeling strangely exposed at her probing look. "I figured you'd want to talk to Lucy alone."

She shook her head and waved him toward the door. "I'm not that much of a hardass, Wyatt. This will be easier if she feels comfortable."

He came so close to giving a snarky retort about his presence being anything but a comfort to Lucy at the present moment, but then he remembered Agent Christopher's doubts from the night before, and he swiftly composed himself and entered the room with a nod. The last thing he wanted was to give her cause to rethink the current arrangement, maybe even pushing her toward the idea of placing Lucy in the care of someone else. He could handle anything - the silent treatment included - as long as he was the one who protected her. After everything that had gone down in the last 24 hours, there was no way he trusted anyone else with that responsibility.

Lucy didn't make eye contact when he sat down next to her, but Denise seemed to be oblivious to the tension as she settled in a chair on the other side of the table.

"Before we begin, I want to say how sorry I am, Lucy. This must be very difficult for you."

"Thank you," she returned blandly without looking up from her lap.

Agent Christopher glanced at Wyatt with a question in her eyes, but all he did was lift a shoulder in response. She shifted her gaze back to Lucy with a crinkled brow.

"Alright, I can start out with some basic questions based on what I already know and let you fill in the blanks, or you can give your full statement on what happened after you left from here yesterday and I can work off of that once you're finished. What would you prefer?"

There was a long pause, and Wyatt felt his stomach twisting into knots with each passing second that she didn't answer. Then Lucy finally lifted her head with red-rimmed eyes, her voice shaking as she spoke past the pending tears. "Are...are you going to take me off the team?"

Wyatt reached for her hand without thinking twice, suddenly immune to the distance that she'd created between them. "Lucy..."

She clasped her hand around his and held on tightly, but didn't respond to him. Her dark eyes flickered rapidly between him and Agent Christopher as if she was too afraid to let either one of them observe her for too long.

Agent Christopher overcame the surprise of that unexpected question fairly quickly, compassion shining in her expression as she leaned forward. "Permanently? Of course not, Lucy. I wouldn't feel comfortable sending you out too soon after the shock of what you've just learned, but you are not being punished here. You haven't done anything wrong. You're still a very valuable part of this team...as long as _you_ still want to be."

"I do," she said with an insistent nod, "I - I'm upset, but I...it makes me want to end this even more."

"Good, then we agree. Nothing changes."

A lone tear dripped down Lucy's cheek, and she wiped at it impatiently with her free hand before straightening slightly. "Okay...I'm ready to talk."

* * *

 _I live for the reviews. Keep 'em coming :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_a/n_ _: Hey, once again, this picks up fairly directly after the last chapter. Also, I still don't own Timeless. AND NBC IS DEAD TO ME IF THEY DON'T RENEW IT. That is all :)_

* * *

"And she didn't give you any specifics on how you would help her change history? Nothing about their future plans or - "

"No," Lucy huffed out with thinly concealed irritation. "Nothing, okay, nothing beyond what I told you before - she said a Rittenhouse operative was going after the Mothership...or already has it by now, I'm assuming."

She watched Agent Christopher for a long moment, then glanced sideways at Wyatt who didn't meet her gaze. Neither of them gave her any confirmation, much to her aggravation. They had been going in circles for the better part of an hour, maybe even longer, and for what? If Rittenhouse already had the Mothership in their possession, shouldn't they be working on something more concrete? Wouldn't their time be better spent trying to get a lock on its current location or formulating a hypothesis for how they would use it? Lucy was talked out. Action would make her feel a hell of a lot better at this point.

But Agent Christopher had other ideas. "Okay, let's go over the last few things you remember again. Did your mother try to get you to leave with her?"

Lucy sighed and rubbed her face roughly, then left her hands over her eyes, trying to rein in the unraveling feeling that threatened to pull her under. "I answered that already. Twice."

She wasn't under any delusions that she would actually get off that easily, but then Denise's phone buzzed against the tabletop and miracle of all miracles, she actually decided to take the call.

"I'll just be a minute," she said as she strode toward the door, her expression sending a very precise message - _don't bolt_.

Lucy stared vacantly ahead, feeling the burden of Wyatt's silent scrutiny like a physical weight upon her shoulders. "Just say it."

"Say what?"

She could hear the grin in his voice without looking at him. That somehow disarmed her carefully-constructed defenses in spite of how desperately she wished to numb herself against his obstinate charm.

"Honestly? I don't have a clue, but you clearly want to say something. So let's have it."

"Lucy," he murmured lowly, causing a strange tension in her stomach. He pulled on the arm of her chair, effectively forcing her to face him since the damn thing was on wheels and gave no heed to what she wanted. "You're doing fine, okay? I know it can be frustrating - "

"Frustrating? I bypassed frustrating twenty minutes ago."

She started to ball a fist against her eyes, but he intercepted the hand and held onto it firmly. "She's just doing her job. She has to be thorough - "

"Why?" Lucy cut him off again, only feeling marginally bad about it as her voice climbed above his. "Why is it her job to make me feel like I'm a criminal being interrogated? It's like...like I'm hiding something and she's trying to catch me in a lie!"

His eyes were so soft, so gentle, that it almost made her apologize for the outburst. He ran a thumb over the top of her hand and shook his head. "No one thinks that you're lying or hiding anything. It's the opposite, really. Every time you give the same answer without changing any of the details, you're building more credibility."

Her anger ebbed away slightly, but she wasn't quite done yet. "Don't I already have credibility? Isn't it enough that I've put my entire life on hold for this? Every time I get into that damn machine to face God knows what, barely even surviving half the time...just to come back to our own timeline with no idea what might change, what could be lost... after everything we've gone through, I still haven't proven myself?"

She was blinking back tears at this point, hating herself for letting her emotions seep through to make an unwanted appearance. She just needed to get through this without turning into a total basket case, but with the way he looked at her - and touched her - so intently, it was a guaranteed lost cause. She could be nothing less than sincere when he was this close. Wyatt was like a direct dose of truth serum to her system, something she couldn't resist no matter how she tried.

"In my book? You've proven yourself a hundred times over. And I know Agent Christopher feels the same way," Wyatt held up a hand before Lucy could protest at that statement, continuing with unwavering confidence, "but she isn't testing your integrity here. She's just making sure your story is solid so it will hold up later."

"Later?" she asked quietly, her hand shifting to find a more sturdy grip on his, the fear of what he was bound to say next creating a swell of anxiety inside of her.

He swallowed and looked away, seeming to berate himself for opening another can of worms. "You...you know what's been going on ever since Ethan gave us access to his Rittenhouse files. This will be the same, Lucy. They don't have a choice."

She sat back in her chair and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, the words he hadn't said echoing in her ears. They were going to arrest her mom. And when they did, it would be Lucy's testimony that implicated her, that could potentially sentence her to a life in prison.

"Hey," Wyatt said faintly, drumming his fingers against her knee, "don't let that get in your head, okay? The only thing you need to worry about is telling the truth. Just keep telling it exactly how you remember it, no matter how many ways Agent Christopher asks you the same questions. All you have to do is be honest every single time."

Lucy took a deep breath and let it out rather unsteadily. Her eyes drifted back to his. "This must be laughable to you."

His eyebrows flew upward in response. "Does it look like I'm laughing?"

"Well you should be. With the things you've seen overseas...what you've been through as a soldier..." She chuckled humorlessly. "And I can't handle an hour or two of harmless questioning from someone who's on my side? I...I'm a coward."

"A coward? That would be the last word I'd ever use to describe you," he spoke earnestly, each word coming out measured and uncompromising as he leaned toward her. "You're a civilian, for starters. A civilian who was dropped into the middle of an insane mission that you were _not_ adequately trained to deal with, by the way. And that entire mission has gone to hell all around you in some very personal ways...but every time," his voice caught for a second before he could go on, "...every time, Lucy, you pick yourself up and you keep going. You keep fighting because you believe in what we're doing - you believe that history should be preserved, that lives should be protected. And that's far from cowardly. Sounds a lot like courage to me."

She pressed her lips together, speechless and a breath away from bursting into tears. He seemed to read that note of fragility in her eyes with ease, his face sloping with a small smile as he stood and pulled her up into a swaying hug. She tucked her head against his shoulder and let out a trembling exhale as her arms went around him.

"You make a much better soldier than you give yourself credit for, ma'am."

That brought a messy little laugh to the surface, which was probably the exact result he had hoped to produce. She was surprised to feel his lips brushing across her temple a moment later, filling her with a burst of warmth and affection that was simultaneously perfect and terrifying. Wyatt took at step back, his hands gliding over her arms as he watched her with a hint of apprehension.

The door clicked open from somewhere beyond Wyatt's shoulder, driving Lucy away from him as she struggled to bring her frayed emotions into check. Agent Christopher walked back in with a wary glance between the two of them. "Sorry, that call went longer than I anticipated. Everything okay in here?"

Lucy kept her eyes trained on the conference table and decisively tried to shut out the sound of Wyatt awkwardly clearing his throat as she returned to her seat. "Yeah, fine. Any new developments we should know about?"

"No, not yet." Once Denise was settled in her spot, she paged through the notes that she had left behind before giving her full attention to Lucy. "So...I believe you were about to tell me what happened when your mom left the house. Did she attempt to coerce you into joining her?"

Wyatt's hand landed on her knee and gave it a little squeeze from beneath the table. She put one hand on top of his and sucked in very deliberate breath before answering. "Uh yes, she asked me to leave with her, but it wasn't...intimidating or aggressive. She genuinely thought I would choose to join her."

Agent Christopher nodded with an encouraging look. "Was there a confrontation when you refused to go?"

"No, she just kept telling me that I'd - " she closed her eyes and failed to hide the shiver that crept up her spine, "- that I'd understand my proper place when the time was right."

Wyatt's hand turned upward and interlocked his fingers with hers. She tried to smile appreciatively at him, but her mouth didn't quite cooperate.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, half for Wyatt and half for Agent Christopher. "That doesn't get any easier no matter how many times I say it."

"You don't need to apologize, Lucy," she replied without hesitation. "Did anyone else show up to meet with your mother while you were there?"

Lucy shook her head. "No, I didn't see or hear anyone else in the house. I-I needed space after what she told me, and I knew that there was no...no way I was coming back." She dipped her head, hating the idea of leaving it all behind - the memories of growing up there, the last place she'd seen Amy's face or heard her voice - but knowing there were no other options. "So as soon as I could make myself move, I went upstairs to throw some stuff in a bag and get the hell out. If someone came in while I was up there, I didn't hear them."

"Is there a chance that someone entered without your knowledge? Or would you have been able to hear them from your room?"

"Someone could have entered." She sighed in defeat, feeling embarrassed at having to admit the next part aloud...again. "I don't know what happened to me, but I-I sort of lost it. I barely even remember going up to my room, and I definitely can't recall anything that happened once I was in there. Everything just sort of...goes blank."

She felt Wyatt's entire arm tense at that confession. His head was bowed low, but from what she could see of him, the planes of his face were twisted into a pained expression that left her feeling even more devastated.

Denise jotted down a quick note, then continued. "And what is the next thing you remember with clarity?"

"Waking up this morning," she responded in a small voice. "Anything else is...fuzzy. Unclear."

"Okay, I think that's enough about this particular incident, but we're not quite finished."

Lucy felt a roll of nausea coiling in her gut. "What...what else is there to talk about?"

Agent Christopher steepled her fingers together and seemed to consider her words for several seconds before she spoke. "We need more general information about your mother, Lucy. There are things we can't possibly know about her without your insight, the kinds of things that are more than just facts on file. How she spends her free time, places she's mentioned visiting, contacts or acquaintances that might fly under our radar...things like that, and - "

"And?" she choked out, feeling incredulous at how much more she could conceivably provide.

"And we need to discuss the very real likelihood that Rittenhouse was woven into the fabric of your childhood without you realizing it at the time. If there are any odd memories, conversations you may have overheard - "

"No." Lucy shoved against the table, sending her chair backwards. "Do you know how ridiculous that is?"

"Lucy - "

She was pretty sure that Wyatt and Agent Christopher had both said her name in unison, but she didn't care. Neither of them were talking her into this. "You do remember that this timeline isn't _my_ timeline, right?! She isn't the woman who raised me, not anymore. My mother was married to Henry Wallace up until the day he died, okay? She smoked for years, got sick with cancer, and was literally on her deathbed the night that Homeland Security first came knocking on our front door. The only reason I even lived there was because I moved back in when her health really spiraled out of control, and now that is _all_ erased. And by the way, my childhood included a sister, remember? Also erased. Nothing is the same now, so pardon me if I feel a little opposed to the suggestion of reliving a whole bunch of memories that _don't exist_."

Silence fell over the room. Her hands were shaking as she pushed her hair away from her face.

It was Agent Christopher who finally said something, her voice quiet and soothing as if Lucy were a spooked horse who needed to be tamed. "I understand. It might seem like a futile exercise, but - "

"It _is_ futile. My life was normal until you dragged me into all of this. If you would have told me anything about Rittenhouse or time travel a year ago, I would have laughed in your face and walked away."

Agent Christopher was undoubtedly gearing up with another counterpoint, but Wyatt broke in first. "It's been a long morning for everyone, and with all due respect, I think it's asking too much for - "

"Wyatt," Denise began in a warning tone, but he was having none of it.

"Look, why don't you leave a pen and paper here, and Lucy can take a few minutes to think through a list for you - places, people, whatever comes to mind, just like you asked. Once she's done, let her get out for a few hours to clear her head. If something jogs her memory and suddenly stands out as the type information you're looking for, you'll be her first phone call."

She looked like she was going to argue, but with another glance at Lucy's pinched facial expression, she caved. "Okay. But the two of you don't go too far, understood? Check in with me immediately if anything comes up."

"Understood," Wyatt replied with a curt nod.

A few sheets of yellow legal paper slid across the table and came to rest in front of Lucy. "Take your time. This could be vital to our investigation."

Lucy couldn't muster a suitable response, the image of her mother trapped behind bars swimming before her. Instead she took the proffered pen and closed her eyes.

 _Focus. You can do this._

She started scribbling down names as fast as she could, refusing to dwell on any one thought for more than a second. She listed a small collection of people who had more or less been there throughout the years, the place her parents - or rather her mom and _step_ dad - had gone on their honeymoon, the locations of conferences that her mom had frequented multiple times, the colleagues who had taken a special interest in their family, just anything that popped into her brain at random.

When she eventually put the pen down, a bone-deep exhaustion had descended upon her. She'd captured just a snapshot of the life she'd once known, and it horrified her to think how much of it could have been a cover for something much more sinister than she'd ever imagined.

"You good?"

She lifted her head to find Wyatt standing at her side, his hands jammed into his coat pockets. Agent Christopher wasn't in sight, and it scared Lucy to know that she hadn't even noticed her exit the room.

"Yeah...I think so."

"Okay." He leaned over her, brushing against her arm as he gathered her own jacket from the back of her chair. "Let's get out of here then. We spend way too much of our lives in this hellhole. You'd think Mason could afford some more comfortable chairs in here, wouldn't you?"

She gave him a halfhearted grin before allowing him to help her out of her chair and into her jacket. She felt spent, totally played out for more than one reason, but she still found herself smiling at his attempted normalcy. He steered her through the door and into the corresponding maze of halls, only letting his hand fall away from her back for as long as it took to collect his keys from the locker room before he was with her again, this time directing her toward the employee parking lot.

The fresh air did her some good, to the point where she actually started to relax ever so slightly as she sank into the passenger seat and waited for Wyatt to put the car in drive.

"So...lunch? Where do you wanna go?"

Lucy pursed her lips for a second before shaking her head. "No thanks, I'm not hungry."

He snorted, his mouth curling to the side as he turned sideways in his seat. "That's not gonna work, Lucy. You skipped breakfast this morning and God only knows when you last ate a decent meal...I somehow doubt you and your mom had a cozy family dinner last night. So what'll it be?"

"Seriously, I'm not hungry."

He steamrolled right past her words, acting as if she hadn't said a thing. "Deli down the street? Chinese? I don't take you for much of a fast food girl, but there's a Taco Bell not far from here, and a Subway just a little further out."

" _Wyatt_ \- "

"We can see if that little bar around the corner is open for lunch. I know you like that place."

She arched an eyebrow at him, torn between annoyance and amusement at his antics. "Does it count as lunch if I'm on a liquid diet of nothing but white wine? Or I might actually be up for some of your whiskey this time."

"That does not count," he returned with a smirk, "but I'll gladly help you with that whiskey later on tonight. I'll even treat you to the private stash."

She felt a little flushed at the possible implications of that statement but couldn't bring herself to banter back and forth with him. "I really don't feel like eating, Wyatt."

His smirk dimmed a few notches, but didn't fade away entirely. "I get it, but I can't let you waste away to nothing, so humor me and order something light. Lady's choice."

"Fine," she grumbled, "deli down the street."

"Excellent," he hummed, shifting into drive and making a quick exit from the parking lot.

They didn't say much on the way, and even lunch itself was fairly quiet, mostly consisting of Lucy picking at a salad while Wyatt made an exaggerated show of watching her each time she took a real bite. He eventually got her talking when he confessed that he hadn't done much exploring since he'd moved to the San Francisco area, consequently sparking an enthusiasm for her hometown that made him mockingly suggest an alternative career at the Chamber of Commerce. She took it all in stride, immensely relieved to discuss anything that didn't include her family legacy or alternative wormholes through time.

When Wyatt excused himself to take care of the bill - adamantly ignoring her offer to pay her fair share - she was astonished to notice that her plate was practically empty. She would never admit it to him, but apparently she'd been far more hungry than she had realized.

But one look at him as he came back to the table, and she knew he was fully aware of this minor victory. For once he didn't take the opportunity to verbally gloat over the fact that he'd been right, and she was endlessly grateful for small miracles.

"Ready?"

She nodded and then they were on their way again, although this time she had no idea where he was going. He wove smoothly through traffic, tapped his fingers against the wheel to the rhythm pouring from the radio, and pointedly disregarded her questioning looks. Just as she was ready to give in to her curiosity and grill him for details, they'd arrived. In two concise movements, Wyatt had them parallel parked in the midst of a bustling street that was only vaguely familiar, and then his eyes were on hers. "Wanna visit Jiya?"

"Yes!" She threw her arms around his neck for an instant before the strain of seat belts and armrests made it too awkward to hold onto him. "Thank you. I was really worried about her until...well, until - "

"I know," he supplied simply, a smile expanding across his face. "Rufus was blowing up my phone earlier with questions about you, so you're not the only who needs to catch up. I figured it was time to reassemble the team."

"So he knows about - "

"Yeah, I told him. Hope that's okay."

She could have kissed him for not making her say it out loud again. And maybe for a few other reasons too, but she'd stick to that one for now. "Really, Wyatt, thank you for this."

He shrugged. "No problem. Shall we?"

Lucy tried to squash the jittery rush that spread through her as took her hand out on the sidewalk and didn't release it the whole way up the street and through the automatic doors of the hospital waiting room.

A stronger person may have been able to stand her ground and fight against the impending disaster that was sure to follow this behavior, but Lucy was feeling anything but strong, so she convinced herself that it wouldn't hurt to indulge in the shadow of his protection for just a little longer. Just until she could confidently stand on her own two feet again...

* * *

 _There will be at least two more chapters after this one! Loving all the feedback so keep it coming :)_


	5. Chapter 5

_a/n : at the risk of sounding redundant, THANKS A BILLION for all the reviews/faves/follows. This story is breaking some of my site records, and it's significantly shorter than some of my other top stories, so holy crap thank youuu. I am in awe of the Timeless fam, guys. That said, please keep 'em coming! I'm in the home stretch of this story, so there will be at least one more chapter after this one! Enjoy!_

* * *

"So how is she? _Really_."

Wyatt tore his eyes away from Lucy, who was chatting animatedly with Jiya and putting on a grand show of arranging the bouquet that she'd insisted they purchase from the hospital gift shop. Rufus was staring him down with a question lurking in his eyes, a question that was most likely a lot less innocuous than the one he'd just whispered under his breath.

Nodding toward the door, Wyatt stepped into the hall and waited for Rufus to make some excuse to Jiya, finding himself working double time to smooth down the spike of anxiety that rushed through his veins. Any bit of distance he put between himself and Lucy felt wrong, like the earth was going to open up and swallow her whole if he wasn't right next to her.

"You okay, man?"

"Hmm?" Wyatt refocused, shaking his head once. "Yeah. Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Good question. You're freaking me out, Wyatt. You look more shaken up here - you know, in the safety of a modern-day hospital, with Flynn behind bars I might add - than you did when you had a freaking bullet sunk into your side in 1865. What gives?"

He lifted a shoulder and schooled his face into something that he hoped reflected nonchalance. "Nothing. I'm just a little jumpy over the fact that you-know-who is still out there and now has control of the Mothership. Flynn might not be a threat anymore, but I have a feeling that this is far from over."

Rufus nodded slowly, and Wyatt could practically hear the gears clicking in his friend's head as he tried to measure the sincerity of that explanation. Before he had a chance to prod further, Wyatt tilted his head toward Jiya's room and answered the original question, needing to keep the attention away from himself. "Lucy's hanging in there as best as she can...it was a rough night, but today has been better."

"She's a tough cookie," Rufus replied solemnly, his gaze fixed on the window that offered a view of both women, "but her mom? I can't imagine..."

Wyatt swallowed heavily. He knew Rufus was close to his family; if it hadn't already been obvious in the reverent voice he used when he spoke of his mom and brother, it was definitely evidenced by the way Rittenhouse had exploited them as the weak link to keep Rufus on their side. There was a part of Wyatt that wished he could relate, but honestly, he was far too isolated for Rittenhouse to leverage his personal life over his head. Without Jessica, there was no one else, no family ties to speak of. It was both a blessing and a curse that he really had nothing left to lose.

But as soon as that thought entered his head, another one shouted back that he was lying to himself. Lucy and Rufus...if he lost them, he was a goner. He would do anything to keep them safe.

"Okay, that's twice now."

"Twice?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at Rufus.

"Yep," Rufus nudged him with his elbow and started down the hallway with the clear expectation that Wyatt would follow. "And I don't know about you, but I think it's easier to admit the truth when there's junk food involved, so come spill your guts at the vending machine with me."

Wyatt huffed after him, narrowly missing a gurney that shot into his path without warning. "What exactly am I admitting? And I just ate, Rufus."

"Too bad. This is as much for me as as it is for you."

Once they were properly armed with the necessary provisions - an intoxicating combo of Red Bull and Oatmeal Creme Pies - Rufus leveled him with an unflinching look that left no room for argument. "Talk."

Not that Wyatt was above arguing anyway.

"I don't know what you want me to - "

"C'mon, Wyatt," he urged with a knowing grin, "I _also_ have eyes, you sly dog."

Wyatt almost choked on his energy drink. "Rufus...there's nothing - "

"Nope, not gonna work. What's going on with you and Lucy, dude? You were holding hands before you came into Jiya's room, and don't even try to deny it because I know what I saw."

"It didn't mean anything," he said quickly, sounding pathetically unconvincing to even his own ears. "You've seen me hold her hand before, so what's the big deal?"

"Yeah, sure, you've held her hand when the Lifeboat's navigation is shot and we're two seconds away from getting crushed forever by a wormhole's sudden collapse, high radiation, and the unknown risks of making contact with the fabric of the time-space continuum. Or ya know, when you're helping her out of a ditch or something. But just casually walking around in broad daylight, in the here-and-now? Nope. That's new."

He thought about denying it, but Rufus wasn't so much as blinking, so there was very little chance of getting too far with that strategy. "You...you didn't see her last night, man. It was..." he let several words bounce through his head before he could find the right one, "...agonizing."

Sadness crinkled across Rufus' face for a long moment before he responded. "And?"

"And what?"

"And now you're incapable of taking your eyes off of her from across the room. You hate the idea of walking away from her for even a few minutes. You're acting spacey and - "

Wyatt held up a hand, his stomach twisting at the rapid-fire accusations. When had he become so easy to read? "Whoa, whoa, easy there, Bud White...I'll talk, I promise."

That at least got a smile out of Rufus, but it was short-lived. "I'm just worried about you. _Both_ of you."

"Don't be." Rufus started to protest, but Wyatt wasn't finished. "You have enough on your plate right now. Jiya needs you, and in case you think I forgot, you're not exactly in top form yourself. You're the badass who got himself shot by Al Capone and lived to tell about it."

He shook his head with a hesitant snicker, relaxing slightly but still keeping a skeptical eye on Wyatt. "I know you're deflecting, but I'll let you get away with it for now. Just be careful, okay? I'm not about to get myself in the middle of a friendship custody battle between the two of you."

Wyatt chuckled softly. "No custody battles. Got it."

"Good, because that's the last thing I need," he said with a mock shudder.

"When did you get so observant, anyway? You're supposed to be the scientist, not the one who plays bad cop in shady hallways."

"This hallway isn't shady," Rufus returned with a self-satisfied grin. "And science _is_ observation, Wyatt. Observation and hypothesis...and a whole lotta math."

"Which is why I stick to guns," he replied with a smirk.

Rufus balled up the remnants of their vending machine binge and tossed it all into a nearby waste can. "Alright, since I'm the one who has no issue acknowledging my real feelings, I'll be the first to say that I've had enough of this male bonding thing. It's been five minutes tops, and I'm not ashamed to tell you that it's already been too long. I need to see Jiya."

He led the way again, marching off toward the room with all the determination of a man on a critical mission, and as much as Wyatt wanted to crack a joke about Rufus being totally whipped, the words got stuck somewhere inside of his throat.

Probably because those five minutes had also been way too long for him.

* * *

"Jiya seemed good. Do you think she was good? I hope she's going to be okay. And poor Rufus...it has to be awful to know what he knows and not be able to explain it to the doctors. Not that it would help to tell them, of course, because they wouldn't believe him anyway and it's not like there's a class in med school that trains them to deal with the side effects of too many people crammed into one tiny time machine."

It took an enormous dose of restraint not to laugh at Lucy's rambling dialogue. He was under no illusions that she was looking for anything less than a serious response. "She seemed good to me too. They'll figure it out."

"I know," she sighed as she tilted her head against the glass pane of his car window, "but it's not like there's a precedent to deal with this."

"Maybe not, but the two of them are geniuses, remember? They don't need a doctor to solve this. I'm pretty sure they _are_ doctors."

"Not medical doctors, Wyatt," she replied with a scoff.

He glanced over at her with a small smile. "Fine, you tell me - if this had happened to you, would you rather get the expertise of someone at Saint Francis Memorial, or would you want Rufus and Jiya to handle it?"

She rolled her eyes begrudgingly. "Rufus and Jiya."

"Same here."

"On the topic of Rufus," she began, shifting in her seat to face him more directly, "where did the two of you disappear to? He tried to pass it off like you guys needed to go do something important, but I know a lame cover story when I hear one. Mostly because I've heard him attempt to tell a convincing lie in about three different centuries at this point."

 _Damn it, Rufus_. "He wanted snacks. Oatmeal pies and Red Bull, to be exact...not as gross as it sounds."

"Really? That's the only reason you left? For Oatmeal pies?"

Wyatt shrugged with a hitched eyebrow. "What? I'm sure he would have preferred Chocodiles, but you and I both know those things are a rare commodity."

She laughed at that, her eyes crinkling as she looked over at him. "Damn right they are. It's a good thing we love him, because that was no easy task."

"You did it, though. You tracked them down. Add that to the growing list of Lucy Preston's impressive achievements."

Her gaze skirted away from him at the compliment, but a soft smile played at her lips. "It was the least I could do. He saved us on that one."

He nodded at that, the memory of that night seeming so real that he could practically feel the chafing ropes at his wrists and the heat of fire on his face. "That feels like so long ago, fighting with you guys back then. Sometimes it's like...like we've known each other forever."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at him. "Is that supposed to be a pun?"

Wyatt surprised himself at how hard he laughed in response, the disbelieving look on her face setting him off in a way that he couldn't hold back. "No, God no...I actually meant that. How corny do you think I am?"

"Not corny," she said, a smile blossoming across her face, "a sarcastic pain in the ass sometimes, but not corny."

"Good, because I'd hate to think I was slipping in the 'sarcastic pain in the ass' department."

"Nope. Although more and more you prove yourself to actually be a sarcastic pain in the ass with a heart of gold, so that might hurt your reputation if you were hoping to keep the second part under wraps."

And now he was the one who couldn't make eye contact. His eyes favored the red light in front of him, praying for it to change quickly so he'd have an excuse to not look at her. "Not gold. Probably more like corroded steel or something."

She made a harrumphing noise from the passenger seat. "Nice try, but I know better than that."

The light flickered to green a moment later than he really needed it. He decided to let that particular thread of conversation drop, not at all interested in hearing more about what Lucy thought of his heart. Well maybe a _little_ interested if he was telling the truth, but that sounded like a precarious topic to entertain while behind the wheel of a motor vehicle.

Lucy didn't fight the silence, but he could sense that she was uncomfortable by the way she angled her head to the side and peered out the window at the passing streets. Neither of them spoke the rest of the way until she perked up at the flip of his turn signal.

"We're shopping? For groceries?"

"You're saying that like I'm an alien who does not require actual sustenance to keep going," he retorted with a grin.

She shrugged. "I just can't picture you doing something as mundane as running errands."

"Believe it or not, I don't spend all of my free time crawling around in sepsis swamps and hot-wiring stolen cars." He pulled into a parking space and cut the engine. "Besides, you may remember I've been a little busy lately...ya know - getting arrested, living as a fugitive, experiencing time travel whiplash between '31 and '54, et cetera - so you'll have to forgive me for dragging you along for something as mundane as keeping myself alive with some real food. This trip is long overdue."

He got out of the car before she had a chance to say anything else, and it was with an irrepressible smirk that he called out to her as she rounded the front of the vehicle a beat later - "I also have a house guest who I'm trying to impress, in case you didn't know."

The smile on her face was like a flash of lightening flaring across a dark sky. "Oh, is that right?"

"Yep, and she better like stir fry because that's one of the only edible meals in my cooking repertoire."

"Stir fry, huh? I can work with stir fry."

He waited until she was next to him, then started toward the storefront, matching her pace and resisting the urge to take her hand again. Not after Rufus had given him the third degree...

"Lead the way, Master Sergeant," she said with a teasing sweep of her arm as they entered the store.

Wyatt snorted at the directive, but did as she asked nonetheless. She trailed behind him as he snagged the necessary ingredients, giving insight that he didn't ask for along the way, somehow becoming the expert on how to choose the best fresh vegetables based on the very valid information she'd gathered from watching the Food Network. But somewhere between the produce section and canned goods, something shifted. She gradually became slower, quieter, and most alarmingly, she offered absolutely zero feedback when he asked her opinion on the merits of purchasing enough microwave popcorn to drown their sorrows in later.

"You okay?" he asked gently with a hand on her elbow, watching her dark eyes very closely as she blinked up at him.

"Yeah," she answered softly. "What else do you need?"

He didn't answer right away, still not fully satisfied with her reaction, but not willing to push too hard in the middle of an Orville Redenbacher display in a public supermarket. "Uh, not much. Unless you wanted - "

"No," she gestured at the cart, her mouth twitching sideways at its contents, "this is already more than I could eat in two months, so I'm good."

He grinned and tilted his head forward, redirecting the cart toward the checkout stations. But despite what she'd said, it was obvious that something was bothering her. She didn't speak as they rang out, didn't bug him about splitting the cost when the cashier announced their total - not that he minded that part - and lagged several steps behind him as they picked their way back through the parking lot. He tossed the bags impatiently into the trunk and returned to the front seat, anxious to keep her in sight. Everything appeared to be fine when he climbed in. She had her phone out and was lazily typing out a message, managing a wan smile at him when she felt his eyes on her.

Wyatt tried to shake off his concern. He was probably reading too much into it, the result of too many years of hyper-vigilance coming into play at any sign of trouble. So instead of launching into another round of questioning - something she'd definitely had enough of for one day, anyhow - he ignored his instincts and swung the car back out onto the road. He would reassess the situation once they were back at his apartment.

Or at least that was the plan until he saw her head drop into her hands.

"Lucy? What is it?"

"Nothing," she mumbled back.

He ground his teeth together and briefly considered if there was enough room for him to edge the car into the shoulder of the road. "Doesn't look like nothing to me."

"I'm just tired."

"I can pull off in a se- "

She lifted her head and swiveled sharply to look at him. "No, seriously...don't do that. I'm fine, Wyatt."

He grunted a reluctant acknowledgement at her request, feeling slightly reassured by the strand of stubbornness in her tone. She didn't look quite up to par, but at least she sounded enough like herself to ease his sense of foreboding. "We're almost there, okay?"

"Okay."

True to his word, the apartment complex swam into view only a few minutes later. She insisted on helping him carry the groceries inside, but he put his foot down at the front door, practically demanding that she wait at the threshold until he could do a cursory sweep of each room to ensure their safety. Once he was confident that it was secure, he ushered her the rest of the way inside and snapped the deadbolt into place behind them. Lucy followed him soundlessly into the kitchen and began stacking the contents of her bags in neat rows on the counter. Her first yawn caught his attention, but he didn't say anything. A second one came soon after, and by the time a third yawn crept through her, he was done pretending not to notice.

"Hey," he murmured, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder, "why don't you go lie down for a little while? I can wake you up when this is almost ready."

She closed her eyes, leaning heavily against the counter with a sigh. "I - I'm sorry, I'm not usually like this...I'm just so worn out. It hit me out of nowhere."

"This is normal, Lucy."

He was about to say more, but she abruptly glanced upward and stood straighter, as if she could so easily rally herself against the crushing weight of fatigue. "Not for me it's not. I'll be okay as long as I stay busy."

"Normal for _this situation_ , I mean..." his hand slid from her shoulder and then tugged lightly on her sleeve, swinging her away from the kitchen, "and I can pretty much guarantee that you will not be okay if you ignore the warning signs that your body is trying to send you."

"I'm - "

"You're not fine or okay, so please don't finish that sentence if that's what you're going to tell me."

She glared up at him with the petulance of a cranky child, and he grinned back at her, knowing it would only piss her off further but risking it anyway. It's not like he could help it where she was concerned. He couldn't keep a damn smile off of his face in her presence.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're enjoying this a bit too much?"

That sobered him up a little. "Trust me, I don't like being right about this, but it is what it is. Chronic fatigue is basically at the top of the physical symptoms list for someone who has experienced an extreme dose of mental-emotional stress. It's natural that you feel like crashing right now. It's a coping mechanism."

She frowned, but there was no heat in it. "I'm sorry that you have to deal with this...with me. I wish you didn't know all of this..."

He could see that she didn't want to complete that thought out loud, so he did it for her. "Firsthand?"

Lucy nodded, her eyes dipping to examine the floor.

"I'm not sorry," he said faintly, his hand finding hers, "whether it was me or the guys I served with, it's all a part of the job. A job I willingly signed up for, Lucy. And if that experience happens to be useful in the here and now, then I certainly don't regret it."

She squeezed his hand in return before another yawn contorted the delicate lines of her face.

"Sorry..." she muttered sheepishly with her free hand raised to her mouth.

"No apologies, just naps," he answered with a wag of his eyebrows.

Her sleepy smile was an arrow straight to his heart. "Alright, alright. I'll go take it easy."

Wyatt watched her go with a stupid smile of his own, unable to tear his eyes away until she'd disappeared down the hall. Once she was out of view, he forced himself to concentrate on the task of putting the groceries away and getting dinner started. He'd just retrieved the cutting board and was ready to begin chopping the ingredients when he heard Lucy reemerge from the back of the apartment. He turned, fully prepared to refute whatever new argument she'd come up with to fight against the idea of resting, but her expression stopped him dead. She stood at the wide opening between the kitchen and living room, her slim frame now clad in yoga pants and an oversized cardigan, an ominous line crumpling across her forehead.

He snapped to attention, instantly searching for any indication of threat or injury. "What's wrong?"

"Would...would it be okay if I stay out here?" she asked in a meager voice, gesturing over her shoulder toward the couch. "I, um...just feel weird about being back there...alone."

He took in her wide eyes and downturned mouth, feeling something shattering inside of him at the sight of her so shaken and ashamed. "Yeah, of course, Lucy. Wherever you want, okay?"

"Thanks," she whispered with raw relief, some unspoken sentiment painting itself across her face for a long moment until she seemed to pry herself away from that spot.

"No problem," he said, caught off guard at the hoarseness in his voice.

Wyatt waited a few minutes, telling himself he had to cut up at least one whole pepper before he stole a glimpse out into the living room. When he did risk a glance, it was well worth the wait. Lucy was snuggled up beneath the same blanket he'd thrown across himself last night, her eyes closed and face gone slack with sleep.

He might not have been able to admit it to Rufus earlier, but there was no debating the truth as he stood there in the middle of an apartment that suddenly didn't feel too empty or quiet anymore. He liked having her here. He liked seeing her on his couch, her head on his pillow, her hand fastened to his blanket. He liked _her_.

And if he was feeling really brave, he could also admit that the word 'like' was already too inadequate to truly capture his feelings.


	6. Chapter 6

_a/n: this chapter sort of exploded & I couldn't bring myself to cut it in half...I figured you'd all be ok with that :) BE SURE TO READ THE NOTE AT THE BOTTOM WHEN YOU ARE DONE. THANKS!_

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Lucy yanked the blanket closer, nestling further into the couch cushions in spite of the annoying pressure on her shoulder. She sighed in blissful contentment as she found the perfect spot against the pillow and prepared to slip back into the luring pull of sleep.

"C'mon, Sleeping Beauty. I know you're having fun in dreamland, but the dwarfs have been hard at work on your behalf."

"Wrong story," she mumbled offhandedly without bothering to open her eyes.

The pressure on her shoulder shifted, rubbed soothingly up and down her back instead. "Huh?"

"Sleeping Beauty...no dwarfs. That's Snow White."

He had the gall to laugh at her. "You're barely conscious and still able to correct me. That's a gift."

She lifted her heavy eyelids with some effort and peered up at him quizzically. Wyatt was halfway perched on the edge of the couch next to her, his arm draped against her, emitting enough warmth and protection to almost draw her back into a sleepy daze. Her gaze darted beyond him, trying and failing to establish where they were.

"My apartment," he said quietly, all traces of amusement evaporating in an instant as he answered her unspoken question. "You were taking a nap until dinner was ready."

"Right," she said in a croaking voice that made her speculate just how long she'd been out of it. She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, thinking how nice it would be if she could physically force her head to keep up with what was going on around her. "Sorry..."

"It's okay," he answered with a quick shake of his head.

Lucy propped herself up on one elbow and began to push the blanket away before she caught a hint of the delicious aroma that was wafting in from the kitchen. "Mmm...stir fry, right? It smells amazing."

She was rewarded with an immaculate grin as Wyatt helped her to her feet. "Well I got some hotshot advice when it came to produce selection this time around, so I have pretty high expectations myself..."

He feigned a painstaking look of warning, and she snickered softly in response, incapable of defending herself against the way she'd taken charge at the store. That little act of hers was surely getting filed under the 'bossy know-it-all' label he'd created for her. Just as a retort was beginning to materialize in her sluggish brain, he took her by surprise and reached forward, smoothing her hair away from her face with beguiling tenderness. Something about the moment - the leftover drowsiness buzzing through her body, or perhaps the early-evening dimness of the room, or maybe just _him_ \- had her absolutely magnetized, and before she could overthink it, she was stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his middle, her face finding solace as it flattened against his shoulder.

"Thank you...for cooking...for letting me crash here. Just thank you."

She felt the heat of his hands through two layers of clothing as he held onto her lower back, his breath stirring the contrary strands of her wavy hair. "Don't get too excited until you taste it, Lucy. I only said it would be edible and I'm sticking to that."

She smiled into his shirt. " _Wyatt_..."

"You're welcome," he whispered genuinely.

A timer began to call out to them from the kitchen and the spell was broken. Wyatt released her and took a step backward with a listless exhale, his eyes intent on her face for several seconds before the beeping started back up again.

"Uh, okay...dinner is served," he motioned toward the kitchen with the flourish, and she went with him, watching with a spark of fascination as he busied himself with the last-minute touches to the meal. He delivered two full plates to the table and poured a glass of wine for her before snagging a beer from the fridge for himself. And then there was nothing left to do but to sit down and eat, which dispatched an flurry of butterflies through her stomach. It had somehow felt perfectly innocent to sit across from him at lunch earlier that afternoon and act like nothing unusual was happening, but here - with the falling shadows coming through the window and darkening his blue eyes, a homemade meal laid out between them, and the Chardonnay he'd specifically bought for her set out on the little table set for two - it was hard to ignore the implications. This felt like a date.

And then he just had to go and pull her chair out for her too, as if the atmosphere wasn't already romantic enough to mess with her head. She tried to mask her fidgeting and appear casually unfazed as she dug into the generous portion he'd given her, so preoccupied with the pretense of normalcy that she barely even registered the probing glances Wyatt was aiming in her direction.

"So?"

She looked up and saw that he was waving his fork toward her plate, awaiting her opinion with a one-sided smirk.

"Oh, it's - " she had to swallow, and held up a finger while she made a point of titling her head back and forth as if pondering a great philosophical question. Then she broke into a broad smile. "It's really good, Wyatt. Several steps above edible."

He chuckled lightly, clearly pleased with her positive review even if he had been downplaying his culinary skills all along. "Glad to hear it. It's a good thing you were with me when I bought the ingredients, though. One time I decided to get creative and added in a few diced mushrooms just for kicks. Almost unknowingly killed one of Jess' friends who had severe allergies..."

Lucy laughed unexpectedly, then clapped a hand over her mouth. "That's... _not_ funny...is it?"

"Yes," he said, that roguish smirk reappearing with a corresponding flicker in his gaze, "yes it is."

She couldn't help it. She laughed again, letting it come out without reservation this time. It didn't escape her notice that his mirth seemed to be as real as her own. For once he had mentioned Jessica's name without a speck of pain or self-hatred. She didn't want to lose the levity of the moment, so she leaned forward and pinned him with a suspicious look. "I don't have any life-threatening food allergies, so if you're trying to get rid of me, you'll have to find a another way."

"Duly noted," he answered dryly.

"So what happened? Did this dinner party of yours end in a trip to the ER?"

The rest of the story unfolded with a few more rounds of laughter, and then that one naturally bled into a second anecdote of Wyatt improvising a meal for an entire unit of hungry soldiers who had been stranded countless miles away from their base camp and only had three rations between the group of them. It was all she could do to keep from spitting out a mouthful of wine when he described his spontaneous hunting excursion through the desert, holding up a hand and begging him not to tell her what odd species of reptile they had fried up over an open fire that night.

Before she knew it, he was clearing her plate away and running hot water in the sink, telling her to help herself to more Chardonnay if she wanted it.

Her earlier bout of nerves had dissolved long ago, and for a second - just a second, she told herself - she briefly allowed her mind to wander into dangerous territory. If she compared this evening with the handful of actual dates she'd been on in the last year or two, there was no doubt as to what her heart told her. The few decent guys she'd met didn't even come close to matching this; the way she felt around Wyatt was just...different, exciting and comfortable all at the same time. And no one else, not the men she'd dated before or Noah or -

 _Noah_...

Something flared to life inside of her, and she suddenly needed her phone and needed it _now_.

"Lucy? Where are - "

"I'll be right back," she called over her shoulder, not stopping until she'd retrieved her cellphone from the bag she'd left on top of Wyatt's bed. She was practically gasping for breath as she composed the message to Agent Christopher, feeling absolutely winded by the devastating shock to her system that sprang up as she typed out her so-called fiancé's name. _Ex_ _-f_ _iancé_.

It seemed so obvious to her now, the way her mother had campaigned for their relationship with the gusto of someone who was a little too personally invested, and why else would she be so enamored with him if he didn't fit neatly into their demented vision for world domination? If Lucy was considered Rittenhouse royalty, would her mom really advocate so strongly for a future marriage to anyone who did not carry the same credentials?

"Lucy, what the hell?" Wyatt came storming into the room, his eyes wild and face ashen. "You ran out of there like - "

She thrust the phone in his direction, her hand trembling uncontrollably. He took it from her, his eyes widening as he read over her hasty instructions to investigate the man who she had supposedly agreed to marry in some other lifetime.

"Holy shit. You - you really think...?"

"I-I don't know...but my-my mom was pretty vocal about how disappointed she was when I...when I was less than enthusiastic about our relationship."

Wyatt's face clouded over. " _Holy shit_ , Lucy..."

"I know," she grimaced and shoved her hair backwards with a shiver. "Maybe I won't send it to her, I mean if he's innocent and this is a false alarm - "

"The hell you're not."

It hit her then that Wyatt still had the phone in his possession, but it was too late. By the time he handed it back to her, he'd already taken it upon himself to send it through to Agent Christopher.

"Wyatt..." she protested weakly, wanting to be more angry at him than she really was, but needing some minuscule semblance of authority anyway.

"What?" he growled back. "You need to trust your instincts on this. And you were alone with him, alone with some random guy who - "

"Oh my god, Rufus." Lucy's legs crumbled beneath her just as she managed to seat herself on the end of the bed. "I let him work on Rufus. What if - "

Wyatt sat beside her and cupped her cheek, turning her gaze back to his. "No. That was days ago, Lucy, we would know by now if Rufus wasn't okay. And we were there the whole time. We would have noticed if he did something shady."

"Are you kidding? I couldn't watch that or I would have been the next one in need of medical attention." Her eyes swam with unshed tears, but a tiny grin lifted the corners of her mouth.

He let out a muted chuckle. "Okay, then _I_ would have noticed. Rufus is fine."

She nodded tentatively before ducking her head and wearily rubbing her temples. "If I'm right...if Noah really is Rittenhouse, then..."

"Then I'll kill him."

Lucy whipped her head to the side and gaped at him, stunned. "Uh, I don't think the powers that be will give the green light to that plan."

He shrugged as if they were discussing a minor infraction of their nonexistent employee handbook instead of unwarranted bloodshed. "I don't care."

"I do! You'll be off the team faster than you can say the word Alamo, so no, you will not go put a hit out on my fake fiance. He's not worth that."

"But - "

She shook her head adamantly. "No, not happening. He never did anything to hurt me or make me uncomfortable - other than just _existing_ , of course - so you're not doing something impulsive or stupid over this. Agent Christopher will handle it. End of discussion."

His jaw worked overtime with the visible need to argue, but then he blew out a frustrated breath and flopped backwards on the bed instead. "Fine."

Lucy let her eyes linger on the span of his prone body until another bombshell of an idea exploded through her. She couldn't hold back her tears this time, pivoting her head away from him as the first few drops fell from her lashes.

She felt the bed shift beneath her as Wyatt sat up again, his hand brushing across her back. "Hey, I know this is a lot, but they'll find him, okay? He - "

"It's not about Noah."

He was silent for a few seconds, but when it was safe to say she wasn't expounding on that statement, he angled himself closer to her. "What is it, then?"

"If...if Agent Christopher is right and Rittenhouse has really...has really been there all along, lurking in the shadows for my entire life, then where does it end? What about Amy and my dad? The dad who raised me, I mean. Did they know? In our original timeline, were they in on this? And why-why am I just now learning about it? Surely Rittenhouse has some plan for what they want me to do, but what if I'm already helping to execute that plan without even knowing it?"

Wyatt somehow appeared to be more or less undaunted by her tears or her jumbled tirade. "I haven't met your sister, Lucy, but from everything you've said, it sounds like there were no secrets between the two of you. So what do you really think? Is it possible that she could have known and kept it from you?"

She chewed on the inside of her lip for an instant before answering. "No. We told each other everything."

"Okay, as for the rest of it..." he sighed, then gently patted her thigh. "I'm not sure how much I can help, but if there's one thing I know, it's that this is the type of situation that requires stronger reinforcements, and I'm a man of my word so..."

Wyatt stood and took off down the hall with a devilish smirk back at her, returning swiftly with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two small tumblers balanced in the other. "As promised...the private stash."

She raised a solitary brow. "So I'm questioning my entire existence and your solution is to send me on a full-fledged bender?"

"I'm just telling you a drink or two will do you some good, let you get out of your head for a while. Whether or not that turns into a full-fledged bender is your call."

He pressed a glass into her hand and poured freely, giving her far more than what she would have allotted for herself. Next thing she knew, he was clinking his glass against hers and murmuring a playful, "bottoms up."

So Lucy tipped hers back too and let it burn over her tongue and down her throat. She wanted to cough it right out of her mouth, but somehow endured the searing taste without doing anything too embarrassing.

But judging by Wyatt's comical little snort, she apparently didn't do such a great job of keeping a poker face in place. "I should have cut yours with some water. My bad."

She shook her head resolutely. "Didn't you hear? I'm drinking like Wyatt Logan tonight."

His laughter came more candidly that time, his hand staking its claim on her leg once more. "God, please don't do that. I'm not scraping you off the ceiling tomorrow morning."

That triggered a laugh of her own, and she was left feeling slightly delirious afterwards as she helped herself to a longer sip of whiskey. She knew the alcohol couldn't be making her loopy so soon, although it was setting off on a nice sizzling path through her system. It was everything, really - the exhaustion, her wavering emotions, Wyatt's hand on her thigh, and yes, maybe a slight hum from the amber liquid too. She decided to test that theory and slanted the glass upward again for another blistering gulp.

"Easy, there. It's not a race."

She brought her eyes to his and felt like falling right into the exhilarating concentration of blue that met her there. "You said it would do me good."

He smiled, and it grounded her in a way she could never describe. "That's only if you don't drown in it first."

"I don't know, I've heard that works for some people."

"They're lying." Wyatt stretched forward to set his glass on the dresser next to the half empty bottle, his other hand skimming along her leg and resting on her knee until he was back at her side again. She put her hand on top of his, knowing in that moment that she desperately wanted more from him but wasn't willing to ask for it. His face was suddenly very close to hers and she nearly stopped breathing. He ran a single fingertip along the strip of skin beneath her eye, swiping at what she could only assume was an obstinate streak of wrecked mascara.

"I hate seeing you cry," he said in harsh whisper, as if it pained him greatly to admit it.

"Believe me, I'd gladly quit doing it in front of you if I could," she whispered back, her hand stroking past his wrist and partway up his arm.

"I don't want that either."

His lips were on hers then, and it was like 1934 on steroids, because there was no cover story and no spectators, and most importantly no excuse of some time-warped parallel universe that could offer something in the way of an explanation. It was just Wyatt, his lips simultaneously persistent and soft with a hand clawing into her hair, his scent flooding her senses, whiskey flavoring his mouth, _Wyatt Wyatt Wyatt_.

Her glass began to slip from her hand, but it was _Wyatt freaking Logan_ she was kissing, so of course he caught it before she let it smash into pieces all over the floor. His mouth never left hers even as his hand deserted its spot on her leg and wrapped around the faltering tumbler, making ragged contact with her unreliable fingers as he stopped it from falling. His face bent nearer to hers and she could feel the scratch of stubble against her cheek as he changed the angle of the kiss and teased her lips open with his tongue. She didn't resist, couldn't have even if she wanted to, because _oh God_ she really wanted this so much it hurt.

But then it was over as soon as it had really begun, and she knew in an instant that wanting him hurt a whole lot less than not having him. Wyatt extracted his hand from where it was tangled at the back of her head, his eyes still closed but twin lines of turmoil ran between his eyebrows, communicating everything Lucy didn't want to see.

And then when he was finally able to squint at her uncertainly, he mumbled the one word she had dreaded the most. "Sorry."

It sent Lucy to her feet in a flash, barely refraining from tripping over his outstretched legs as she slammed her glass of whiskey onto the top of the dresser. "Uh, yeah, s'okay. I'm gonna get some air."

"Lucy, wait," he scrambled to grasp her arm but she was faster, darting toward the doorway and somehow having the forethought to snatch up her overnight bag before exiting. "Whoa, what - "

She was in the hall with the front door in her sights, but Wyatt had recovered from the fog of his confusion and was hot on her heels.

"Lucy, stop, okay? You're _not_ leaving!" He spun her around by her elbow, his chest heaving, eyes sizing her up with a riotous look.

"I-I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here." It was all she could say, her chin wobbling with each word. She tried to pluck her arm out of his grip but he was unrelenting.

His brow furrowed. "Where exactly should you be, then?"

"Just let me go, Wyatt," she plead, her breathing terribly shallow. "Please."

"Where? Where are you going?"

She just looked away, rummaging for an answer she didn't have, hopelessly trying to preserve herself against his take-no-prisoners stance that she'd seen in action more times than she could count. There was usually no stopping him when he got like this.

When she failed to provide a satisfactory answer, he stepped further into the rapidly evaporating space between them, his eyes glinting with pure steel. "This is not happening again, okay? I will not sit back and watch as someone I care about walks straight into danger. And this - this is even worse than the last time, Lucy, because we _know_ that you aren't safe out there. This wouldn't be some stupid, random gamble. You have a big frickin' target on your back, remember?"

She wanted to interrupt, to argue that Rittenhouse would have her already if they really wanted her, but he didn't give her the chance.

"Don't do that to me, Lucy. Don't you dare tell me that you'd rather take your chances out there on your own - take on Rittenhouse - than stay here and talk to me about what's going on between us."

That last part threw her off just enough to distract her from her escape mission, and Wyatt seized the opportunity, ushering her away from the door and toward the couch. She let him propel her onto the awaiting cushions, her hands rising to shield her face from him as she folded her legs beneath her.

"I..." she tried to get her voice under control, but it was a fruitless venture. "I don't want this to be complicated. You and me. It can't...I-I'm sorry."

A strange thumping noise caught her attention, and when she glanced up and saw a twinge of pain on his face she had a hunch that Wyatt had punched or kicked some poor inanimate object.

"Damn it if she wasn't right about this," he muttered with a scoff.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

He scanned her face with a guarded look. "Agent Christopher. Complicated...that was the exact word she used. She thought this situation would be _complicated_. Apparently she was right on the money with that one."

Lucy sat straighter. A new swell of turbulence rolled through her. "So the two of you talked about...me? About _us_?"

"It wasn't like that," he said indignantly, pacing around to the other side of the coffee table with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Then what was it like? And when was someone going to ask for my input?"

"Lucy - "

"No," she cut him off, not liking the remorseful look that warped his features, "I'm not some burden that needs attended to, okay? I'm grateful for last night, but I am fully capable of staying by myself at this point. I can get a hotel room or rent a - "

Wyatt rounded the table and plopped himself down right in front of her, his jaw set so hard it looked like it would snap in half. "You are _not_ a burden. And you shouldn't be alone. Not tonight, not anytime in the near future."

"But I - "

"Let me ask you something," he spoke over her, his expression softening bit by bit. "What did you think of me that day at the Alamo? Why did you run out into the middle of total chaos, put yourself in the line of fire, and then stay out there with bullets flying and canons going off all around us until I agreed to come with you?"

"This is different," she returned without any force, the fight going out of her before it ever really took root.

He shook his head as he took her hands and propped them up against his knees. "It's not. I was totally screwed up the whole time we were there, Lucy, and I - I wouldn't have made it out alive if you hadn't fought for me. You know that hump we talked about in Germany?"

She nodded reluctantly.

"Well sometimes the damn hump comes back even when you think you're done with it. I know that better than anyone, and you do too. You saw what it did to me, didn't you?"

It was an image she kept locked away in the deepest recesses of her mind, something she never wanted to remember or relive. She could never let him know just how terrifying it had been to witness Wyatt - _Wyatt_ _of all people_ \- so lost, unfocused and afraid in a way she hadn't thought possible.

"So tell me," he continued in a gravelly voice, "was I some burden that you had to deal with? A hardship? A thorn in your side, an unfortunate roadblock that stood between you and the Lifeboat?"

"No," she answered unflinchingly. "Of course not."

He let go of her hands and gripped the edges of the coffee table beneath him. "Then tell me what's going on here. Because you're staying here, in my apartment - and in my life, by the way - for the foreseeable future, and that is not something I'm willing to screw up, so let's have it out. Tell me what's really bugging you."

Lucy pulled her legs up to her chest and clung to them, barricading herself as best as she could. "N-nothing. It's...nothing."

His eyebrows jumped upward. "Wanna try that again? And let's just put our cards on the table and admit that things went south after that kiss, so is that it? You don't want me to kiss you? Just say so."

"You're the one who apologized."

It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself, her face reddening at the bluntness of her remark.

Wyatt - _naturally_ \- had the audacity to smirk at her. "I'm not sorry for kissing you, Lucy. Wasn't the greatest timing on my part, but the kiss itself? I wouldn't take that back for anything."

Her toes curled at that statement, but it wasn't enough to drown out the swirling doubts that circled her brain. "So you're...sorry for what, exactly?"

He pushed his hair away from his forehead and she was sad to see the worry lines reappearing as he sighed. "For moving too fast. For making a pass at you when you're vulnerable...kissing you right after you basically said you wanted to get rip-roaring drunk tonight to forget about everything else. Like I said, not the greatest timing."

She didn't know what to do with that information. She had wanted him to kiss her, there was no denying that. But there was another part of her that wanted to run away screaming as fast as she could every time he touched her, looked at her, held her too close or for too long. She trusted him with her life, often found herself wanting to hold on and never let go, but something about him made her feel like she was sinking in a giant pit of deadly quicksand.

Or like she was in a car that had spun out and was plummeting straight into a rushing river.

"Just talk to me," he whispered with a note of sorrow, "please, Lucy."

She closed her eyes, rallied her strength, took a long breath. When she met his gaze, she was struck with the memory of another night, one where she'd felt him slipping purposefully away from her. The night he'd stolen the Lifeboat. She knew what she had to say then, even if she hated every word of it.

"We spend so much time flying back and forth between decades that it's easy to lose track of real time...of our own timeline, I mean..." she quirked a small smile, hoping to dispel the tide of anxiety that rattled through her bones, "...and that's only gotten harder for me in the last week or two with so many things changing so quickly. But in reality, Wyatt, that night you came to me and told me you were stealing the time machine to save Jessica? That happened a whole lot more recently than I care to admit."

Grim understanding spread across his face. "Lucy, I can - "

"No," she shook her head stubbornly, "I am saying this because I-I have to. I need to. And listen, I will never resent you for trying to bring her back. _Never_ , okay? But I...I don't know. You said it yourself, you don't even know for sure what possibilities you're open to and - "

He inched forward, his eyes ablaze with conviction. "Oh come on, that was bullshit and you know it. It's you, Lucy. There's no one else, no one that's even come close to a possibility. My buddies used to try to get me to go out and meet new people, but I refused to ever give it a real chance. I never even thought about moving on until I met you. You...you changed everything." He drew in a deep breath, anguish etching into his features before he spoke again. "But I think...I think you're scared of that. I know we got interrupted by Mason the other day, but I wasn't the one who ran off as soon as there was an opportunity to do so... That was you."

Lucy swallowed against the stabbing accuracy of that last comment. A silent eternity folded itself around them until she could eventually find her voice. "What I'm about to say...it's not fair..."

His hand tapped reassuringly against her ankle. "I can handle it."

"I...I'm afraid that I'll never be enough...that you'll never stop trying to find a way to change what happened to her. I don't want to go down this road with you just to wake up one day and find out that you changed your mind and can't do it. Can't move on."

Another batch of tears trickled down her cheeks. When she looked up at him, she was surprised to see his eyes were wet too.

"Okay," he said with some difficulty, "my turn now. First of all, I never want to hurt you. Ever. That night at your house...telling you what I was going to do and seeing how it affected you...I never want to repeat that experience. I _hate_ hurting you, Lucy."

"I know you do," she returned in a small voice.

"It almost kept me from going."

Those six words could have knocked her off the couch. Her feet slid from their perch on the cushions and landed between his as she leaned forward. " _Really_?"

"Really," he said with a smile that could only be defined as bittersweet. "The thing is, I also had to go _because_ of you. I knew I had to try it, had to take one last real shot at saving Jess...for you."

Her jaw was practically unhinged. "How...how does that make any sense?"

"Because I didn't want to go down this road with you just to wake up one day and realize that I had strung you along...that I couldn't move on."

She blinked at him several times, the searing sensation of whiskey suddenly igniting into a wildfire even though she'd abandoned her drink long ago. He'd more or less echoed her own words right back to her, but in a way that sounded a lot less excruciating. "So..."

Wyatt reached for her hand and wove his fingers between hers. "So, you've thrown my entire world off-balance. You - lecturing everyone about your underwire bra, making every guy in history fall in love with you, and giving out these enormous soul-crushing hugs...you're a hell of a whirlwind, ya know?"

They both chuckled softly at that, and the catalyst of her cluttered laugh dislodged another tear or two.

"Lucy, I...I don't know when or how it happened exactly, but by the time we were thrown into some backwoods cabin with Bonnie and Clyde, it was already too late. I just didn't know how far gone I was until I kissed you that night. And I meant what I said at Mason Industries afterwards...I really didn't plan it...but God, that kiss hit me like a Mack truck whether I expected it or not."

"Me too," she confessed quietly.

"I still didn't want to deal with it though," he said with a chagrined look, "but then everything that happened after that - what almost went down with David Rittenhouse, losing you to Flynn, thinking you could already be dead _twice_ inside of Holmes' damn murder hotel - I was barely holding it together while you were gone, and that scared the shit out of me once I could slow down long enough to process all of it. I knew...I knew that things were going to get worse, messier, if I didn't get a handle on what I was feeling...what I was fighting for."

"And you weren't done fighting for her." There was no accusation in that sentence, because who could fault him for that? But even as she defended him in her head, it didn't stop the pang of dejection that splintered her heart.

He applied a little pressure to her hand and drew her into him, bringing her to the edge of the couch, their lips just inches apart. She could see every varying shade of blue outlined in his pensive eyes. "There will always be a part of me that grieves over what happened to her. I will always blame myself for the part I played in her death."

Lucy nodded, the rest of her body feeling utterly frozen.

"But I was telling the truth when I said that there is meaning in my life now, a purpose. And you - you are a huge part of that, and it goes beyond just protecting you from Flynn or Rittenhouse or whatever else comes our way. Losing Jess was almost the end of me, but you?" He paused, his voice breaking momentarily. "I can't risk losing you too. I need _you_ , Lucy, here with me...safe. You're the only reason I wasn't throwing all my stuff into bags and making a seven hour trek to Pendleton as fast as I could. You're enough for me. Hell, you're way more than enough, so don't ever think anything less."

She tried to say something back, she really did, but her mouth just quivered in response.

Wyatt didn't seem to mind. His face lit up for some reason she couldn't quite comprehend, and then he was standing and dragging her to her feet as well. "C'mere, I need to show you something."

"Wyatt...?"

He didn't bother with any further explanation. He had her hand tightly inside of his own, pulling her behind him as they swept through the living room, past the small hallway, and into his bedroom. Then his hands were on her shoulders, directing her to stand in front of a blank wall. He positioned himself next to her, pointing at the expanse of empty drywall as if it held some kind of grand significance. "See that?"

"Um..." she narrowed her gaze, wondering if he'd somehow had way more to drink than she'd noticed. "What am I looking at?"

"The holes. There are a bunch of them, tiny ones...see? I'll have to dig out the old putty knife before I leave this place, or I can say goodbye to that security deposit."

Lucy stepped closer and ran a finger over the little indentations. She glanced back at him from over her shoulder, curiosity rumpling across her forehead.

"For years now, I've collected everything I could about Jessica's death - every newspaper article, any lead I thought I had, anything - and pinned it all up wherever I lived." He lifted his shoulder with a rare self-conscious smile, and she was sure that this was not something he'd ever told anyone else. "It was my way of guaranteeing that I wouldn't forget. That I wouldn't stop trying."

She wanted to wrap him up in one of those soul-crushing hugs at that point, but she couldn't do it. Not yet. "When...when did you take it down?"

"First time I was back in this place after escaping custody. It's all been a blur since that night, but as soon as I was here for more than five minutes, I took it all down and packed it away."

His gaze was unyielding, luring her in, forcing her to move toward him.

He took the cue and met her halfway. "I've done everything I could do to bring Jess back, went as far as stealing a damn time machine, but nothing changed. I'm ready now...ready to accept the fact that I'm still alive and I've fallen for someone else. Ready to stop denying the way I feel about you."

For maybe the millionth time that night, Lucy's eyes were misty with another round of surging emotion. "You're sure?"

He smiled boyishly before framing her face in his hands. "Positive. I can't promise it will all be smooth sailing from here on out, but I can promise that I want to be with you."

"Wyatt..."

That was it. That was all she could say.

His smile transformed into a smirk as his forehead brushed against hers. "Permission to kiss you, ma'am?"

"Permission granted," she said with an inevitable grin.

Their lips connected for a dazzling moment, her arms snaking around him of their own accord. He kept one hand on her face as the other slid down her neck and around to her back, pressing her further into the solid planes of his chest.

And just as her mouth opened beneath his with an intoxicating little gasp, his phone droned spitefully from the back pocket of his jeans.

"I'm not answering that," he mumbled against her mouth.

She distantly realized that it was a bad idea to be ignoring phone calls with everything that was going on in their lives, but then he was leaving open kisses along the column of her neck and she suddenly had no thoughts at all other than _don't stop_.

But as soon as his phone quit ringing, hers began to chime from the other side of the room and they groaned in unison. Wyatt dropped his head onto her shoulder for several seconds before grunting a few curse words and standing straight again, fishing his phone out of his pocket with one hand and clutching a fistful of her cardigan in the other. His thumb drifted unenthusiastically against the touch screen just in time to catch Agent Christopher's second call.

"This - " he coughed once, clearing the hazy crackle from his voice, which made Lucy shake with silent laughter. He tried to glare down at her, but his lips hitched upward and ruined the effect. "This is Logan."

His expression morphed from euphoric distraction to diligent concentration so fast it nearly gave her whiplash.

"Understood. I...I'll ask, but - " he paused, forcibly clamped his mouth shut, then sighed. "Okay...Yeah, she's right here...I'll tell her."

Wyatt ended the call with a cryptic look, but didn't seem to be in any hurry to fill her in or get ready to leave.

"The Mothership?"

He nodded resignedly. "They jumped. Tennessee, 1818."

She frowned and turned her chin to the side before moving away from him to find her shoes. "The Jackson Purchase? Could be...especially since Andrew Jackson was - "

"Lucy," he exhaled sharply, "hold up for a second. Maybe you should sit this one out."

His clipped words bounced off of her without impact. "Does she have another historian lined up?"

"No, but - "

"Did she say I couldn't come?" she asked as she knelt to tie her sneaker.

"No," he said with an audible growl, "but she did say that you didn't have to go if you weren't ready."

"Good thing I'm ready then."

He crossed the room in two long strides, his hand on her wrist and his mouth bent with concern. "Don't do this just because you think you're supposed to, or because you're afraid of what could happen if you're left behind. It's okay if you need more time. Rufus and I...we can handle it."

With a gust of newfound boldness, she stood on her toes and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," he breathed out automatically, blinking indistinctly as his hands circled her waist. "You know I do."

"Then trust that I'm being honest when I say I need to do this. I can't sit on the sidelines, Wyatt. I'm going with you."

He swallowed heavily. "Okay."

She kissed his cheek with a grin, then broke away to tie the other shoe.

"But don't think that you can just get your way by kissing me every time we disagree. That's fighting dirty, and I'm onto you."

Her grin broadened to the point where she had to duck her head lower to hide it from him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mmhmm. Nice try."

Their hands laced together when she stood up, and then they were on their way, spilling out into the night with fingers and hearts intertwined.

Lucy was sure that the real battle was just beginning, but call it fate or God or the Force, she knew that this battle was meant to be hers. And with a glance sideways at Wyatt's familiar profile, she also knew that she had something else to fight for now. _Someone_ else.

And that would be enough to keep her going indefinitely.

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 _a/n : sooo thoughts? review please!_

 _this was the last real chapter but guess who has to write a freakin epilogue because she just cannot shut up (it's me)_

 _stay tuned ;)_


	7. Epilogue

_a/n: THANK YOU all for making my first attempt at Timeless FF such an awesome ride. This is it - we've reached the epilogue! I fully admit that there may be some inaccuracies in this chapter. More on that after you read ;)_

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The creak of the porch's rickety wide-planked floorboards should have given him up long before he had a chance to really observe her, but Lucy sat as still as a statue, not so much as even glancing in his direction as he braced himself against the battered doorjamb and ran his eyes over her motionless form. Her face was turned upward to the night sky, a ratty quilt hanging loosely around her shoulders to ward off the advancing chill. Sweeping tendrils of dark hair that had long-ago escaped the low twist at the back of her neck were now fluttering gently in the cool breeze, practically beckoning him forward across the shabby little porch.

It had been a long day - or more like two days, since they'd gone nearly 36 hours without any real sleep at this point - but she showed no signs of turning in for the night, even though there was a warm bed with her name on it waiting inside of the primitive cabin.

Actually, there was a warm bed with _their_ name on it since they were once again posing as a married couple. And go figure that just when Wyatt was fully ready to embrace the role without a bit of resistance - to gladly spend the night with her wrapped up tightly in his arms - she was the one who had parked herself in a rocking chair on the furthest corner of the porch, wide awake and seemingly a million miles away from him. But he knew how that went. As far as he was concerned, the unexpected stints of insomnia were far worse than the alternative of oppressive fatigue. At least sleep could offer a temporary escape from yourself. Insomnia was far more suffocating; it had the power to trap you inside of your head and beat you down until you were absolutely paralyzed by the weight of your own thoughts.

And judging by the creasing frown that rutted her forehead, that was exactly where she was at. Wyatt had no intentions of leaving her there by herself, though.

"Evening, ma'am," he announced his presence in a poured-on hillbilly accent, waiting until her head swiveled in his direction before tipping his silly cowboy hat at her with a hint of irony.

It brought a tiny involuntary smile to her face. She shook her head slightly before her gaze returned to the sky. "Mock it all you want, but you can't fool me, Wyatt. I know that deep down you're just a good ole Southern boy like everyone else around here."

"Whoa now," he retorted quickly, crossing the wooden floor with wide eyes, "Texas may only be two states away, but I assure you that it is a world of it's own. You can't lump us in with anyone else."

"My apologies," she replied with a sideways grin that implied she was not sorry at all.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked quietly, motioning toward the other rocker that was sitting unoccupied in the cobwebbed corner behind her. She shrugged noncommittally and pulled the quilt more securely around her slender silhouette as he dragged the chair forward and plopped down next to her.

He took it all in stride, relieved to see that she was holding up alright under the circumstances. She'd done her job as well as could be expected since their bumpy arrival in West Tennessee, spitting out a myriad of beneficial facts about the Chickasaw tribe, Andrew Jackson, and most importantly, Isaac Shelby - a Revolutionary War hero and two-time Kentucky governor who turned out to be the real focus of the mission for reasons Wyatt still didn't completely understand. Lucy had insisted that they keep Shelby away from Emma, so that was what they had done, even if the guy seemed like he was older than dirt and about two seconds from his deathbed anyway. They'd only found themselves in the midst of two major snafus throughout the day, which was a win in Wyatt's book; the real trouble was that Emma had covered a lot of ground in the span of a few hours, which meant they'd ended the mission much further from the Lifeboat than what he preferred, and then the sun was setting and the horses they had 'borrowed' were nowhere to be found. It seemed like Emma and her goons had been successfully deterred for the time being, but with his team looking absolutely beat and Wyatt feeling a bit worse for wear himself, the decision had been easy. They were spending the night in what would soon become the central hub of Memphis, on the lookout for anything that could offer a bit of shelter just east of the Mississippi River.

The good news was that Lucy had easily sweet-talked their way into the home of a sympathetic planter who was apparently one of the area's earliest settlers. The bad news was that the farmer had plainly ordered Rufus to go find a place to sleep in one of the outbuildings behind the cabin, and his tone had not left much room for argument. Wyatt had partly overheard Lucy's repentant explanation to Rufus, something about Tennessee showing early support for emancipation, but the abolitionist movement not having enough traction to actually make it happen... _yet_. Her hushed commentary was cut short when their host cleared his throat with an impatient scowl, and then Rufus was gone, disappearing into the falling darkness with a disgruntled look.

Wyatt had already decided that they were treating Rufus to whatever he wanted when they returned to the twenty-first century - free booze, an endless supply of Chocodiles, a video game tournament or movie marathon of his choosing - literally anything he could wish for, it was his for the taking.

But if he was going to solve one problem at a time, Wyatt's primary concern at the moment was sitting right next to him. It was Lucy, who had totally lost that glimmer of excitement that always came to life whenever she was seeing history happen right before her eyes. Lucy, who had pushed through an exhausting day without a single complaint or mention of the very personal stakes that these missions would now take on for her. Lucy, who had screamed his name in sheer terror as a bullet hurtled very, _very_ close to his forehead a few hours ago.

As if reading his thoughts, she breathed a reticent question into the luminous air, her voice joining in the song of crickets and owls and bullfrogs. "Are you sure you aren't hurt?"

He turned to her with one skeptical eyebrow lifted, suggesting that nothing could be further from the truth. "C'mon, Lucy. They're gonna have to do a lot better than that if they want to hurt me. Flynn was a much better shot."

"Don't do that. Don't act like it wasn't a close call."

The tension wasn't just contained to her words, but spread visibly in a straight line through her body, giving her the appearance of something too brittle; something _breakable_. She wasn't looking at him, choosing instead to stare beyond the sparse railing in front of her.

"It was a close call," he admitted just above a whisper.

She didn't speak again, so he followed the line of her vision and let out a low whistle when he saw what had captured her attention. Clusters of brilliant stars blazed across the tapestry of a very black sky, dancing before him like an animated painting. It only took a second for his eyes to re-acclimate themselves to the sight, but that didn't diminish the awestruck feeling of seeing it all over again for the first time in a long time.

"I know this flies in the face of what I just told you, but _damn_...this sky reminds me a lot of growing up in Texas."

"Yeah?" she murmured in response, perking up ever so slightly.

He saw her interest and ran with it, committing himself fully to the rope that she'd thrown him. "Definitely. Summer nights at my Grandpa Sherwin's place out in the country were just like this one, only warmer and without the stupid costumes."

She rolled her eyes at that. "Can you please refrain from using the word 'costumes' until we're home again?"

Wyatt chuckled at the request, but nodded his agreement. Something howled into the glittering twilight, and Lucy shifted her chair closer to his even though the sound was still quite some distance away. He certainly didn't mind having an excuse for her nearness. "We sat out on an old wraparound porch, not too different than this one, night after night. Stars, millions of them, reappearing every evening around this time. And man, I was the worst at finding the constellations back then...didn't matter how often he tried to show them to me, I was hopeless. Couldn't even pick out the Big Dipper."

A smile spread across her face. "Really? _You_? The man who actually knows how to use moss as nature's compass and can spot poisonous leaves from ten yards out? I don't buy it."

"Contrary to what you and Rufus may believe, I wasn't born a Boy Scout. The survivalist crap was a work in progress."

Her smile evolved into a sweet, airy laugh. "But now you're going to tell me that you know all of them, don't you? That you're a verified astronomy expert."

"An expert?" He smirked and shook his head. "Not quite. But my grandpa was the most patient man I've ever met, and he kept at it. Didn't let me quit trying to learn them. He said it was a rite of passage, and when he said something like that, I always believed him. He was just that type of person, ya know?"

Lucy's expression was tender and concentrated, carrying the kind of warmth that melted something inside of him. "Sounds like the two of you had a lot in common."

She couldn't possibly know how much of a compliment that was, and even though he didn't entirely agree with her, it was nice to hear it nonetheless. He was suddenly hit with a sharp pang of disappointment when he realized Lucy would never have the chance to meet his grandfather. They would have hit it off right away, both sharing a love for the past and having a knack for putting Wyatt in his place when he really deserved it. Plus he'd seen firsthand how Lucy could essentially charm just about anyone, so he doubted it would have been any different with Grandpa Sherwin.

Once he had a better handle on his emotions, he went on, the memories washing over him with a sense of melancholy affection. "I'll never forget how proud he was when it finally clicked. I got Orion first, and then the Big Dipper, and from there you'd have to be blind to not see the Great Bear. I couldn't stop after that. I was obsessed with learning as many of them as I could. Can't remember all of them now, but I still know the basics."

There was a hypnotic sparkle in her eyes as she glanced over at him. It was as if the entire Milky Way was reflected right there in the depths of her dark gaze. "Show them to me?"

"Are you honestly telling me you don't know them?" he asked with a sly grin inching up on one side of his mouth. "Don't they teach these things in all of your precious textbooks?"

"Fine, if you don't want to do it..." she feigned a look of indifference and turned her head away from him.

His hand was on her arm then, giving a gentle tug in his direction. "Well get over here, then."

"Over where - " but then her face sharpened with understanding as he nodded down at his lap. "Wyatt..."

"C'mon, don't be shy. Proximity is a key part of the experience, Lucy."

He could see that she was trying to smother a timid smile as she stood up and took a little half step closer to his chair. His hands cinched around her small waist, guiding her into place against his legs. She eased into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her head nestling beside his and her shoulders coming to rest against his chest. He folded one arm snugly around her and used the other to find her wrist.

"What do you want to see first?"

She tilted her head, the softness of her cheek slipping over his jaw, causing his breath to catch at the feathery touch of her skin on his. "I don't know...what's your favorite?"

He raised their joined hands and started tracing his way through the cosmos. "There. Leo the Lion."

"Do it again," she instructed with a laugh, "I didn't get that at all."

He laughed too, then began again, slower this time with his mouth right beside her ear. "The head and mane are here...like a backwards question mark. See it?"

She nodded, and one of those escaped tendrils of her wavy hair tickled his neck.

"Okay, then a straight line here," he murmured, taking her finger and trailing it off to the left, "to his back end, and tail. That's Leo."

"I see it!"

He leaned into her, grinning at her enthusiasm, and propped his chin against her shoulder. "You're already a much better student than I was, but that was to be expected, wasn't it?"

"No comment," she said smugly. "What's next?"

Wyatt obliged, using the same method to sketch out the other constellations that he could recall, and when he ran out of ones that he actually knew, he decided to ad-lib instead. He wrote her name in looping cursive, forged a terribly makeshift circle that he deemed the Lifeboat, and then got really ambitious when he outlined a very lopsided version of the Golden Gate Bridge. That last one really had her laughing, a guileless kind of laugh that she couldn't contain. She hastily hid her face in his shirtfront, trying to muffle the sound before it could travel indoors and disturb their new friend. Wyatt bundled her more securely against him and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head, smiling with a smidgen of self-satisfaction as he used his feet to swing the rocking chair into motion. The sound of her happiness had very quickly become an addiction of his, something he wanted to spur on as often as possible.

When she was finally able to compose herself, Lucy sat up in his lap and ran her fingers over his chest, busying herself with the unnecessary task of straightening his shirt. "You should stick to the _real_ constellations, Wyatt. You're much better at those."

"What, you didn't like my bridge? That's a little hurtful."

"You know me," she said with a contrite look, "I like playing by the rules. Everything in it's proper order, fixed points and concrete plans. I don't usually go for abstract."

"Yes, I do know you," he brushed his nose against hers, let himself examine her lips in the inky darkness. "And as much as you say you want everything to be black and white, right and wrong, you've proven on more than one occasion that you're better at charting your own course than you think."

She sighed at that, her hands searching for stability as she angled herself sideways to see him better. "So is that the object lesson for tonight? Sometimes you have to take the stars and shape them into the future that you want instead of the one that seems to be spelled out for you?"

He chuckled and ran his fingertips over her cheek. "You're giving me way too much credit here. I just fumbled my way into this analogy coincidentally."

"Making it up as you go, right?"

"Right," he answered, his gaze flickering between her eyes and her mouth. "That's the deal. We make it up as we go...choose our own futures."

Lucy drifted closer until there was barely any space left between them. "I choose you then."

Those words drove him the rest of the way forward and he kissed her with abandon, drinking her in like a man who hadn't seen water for miles and miles. His hands fused to her jaw and held on with all that he had, for once feeling very grateful that he was stuck somewhere in history instead of living this out in their present timeline; there were no damn cell phones to interrupt them in 1818.

She dragged her fingernails through his hair and he arched into the sensation, indulging in the fiery trail that she left in her wake. Her lips collided with his over and over again, matching his fervent kiss with a potent insistence of her own. He fought to keep the chair under control as Lucy wriggled further into his lap. The momentum had them swaying chaotically for an instant, so he planted his feet more firmly to regulate the pace at which they were moving, never letting her lips leave his in the process. But then she shifted against him again and his head fell backwards away from hers, unleashing a dull groan at his body's staggering response to the friction she'd created.

" _Lucy_..."

"Mmm?" Her eyes were still closed, her mouth now whispering against the shell of his ear.

"We - " he watched as her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips for just a second, the effect scrambling his brain to mush, "uh, we...screw it."

He pulled her in for another kiss, and she welcomed him back without protest. He just needed another taste of her. More of her mouth, her tongue, her roaming fingers and velvet skin. It was a craving that couldn't be satisfied.

Lucy broke away with a gasp several minutes later, her hands anchored to his neck and her big doe eyes studying him with unconcealed longing. The shadows seemed to enclose them in a world of their own as she left a simmering kiss on the corner of his mouth, each breath still coming rapidly in an achingly shallow pattern of desperation.

Wyatt ghosted a thumb along her lower lip, his lungs greedily taking in as much air as possible. "We should...we should slow this down."

"Okay..." she covered his hand with hers and trapped it against her face, "too much too soon?"

"Uh, right...well that is a good point, and - " he blinked hard, trying to assemble a single coherent thought, " - and we probably shouldn't rush into this..."

"Sure," Lucy nodded, stroking her fingers over his knuckles, still looking a bit woozy despite the increasing steadiness in her voice.

He turned his face to nuzzle against her palm. "And if I'm being really honest, I'm about a split-second from hauling you over the threshold and having my way with you in that house, but I don't want our first time to be in some broken-down shack with a crotchety farmer lying just on the other side of the wall from us...something tells me he'd be a little less congratulatory than our old friends Bonnie and Clyde."

Her face was an endearing blend of amused and astonished. She gaped at him, too flustered to make any response other than the tiny disbelieving noise that sprang from her throat.

"What? Too much too soon?"

She grinned, shook her head, and snuggled her body into his. "It's just so surreal...hearing you talk like that."

He found the edge of the quilt that she'd been wearing around her and rearranged it over their intertwined mess of arms and legs. "Well get used to it, ma'am. I'm not going anywhere. Understood?"

"Is this the part where I say 'sir, yes, sir?'" she asked with a snicker.

"I could get used to that," he hummed into her hair, earning a small jab against his ribs. " _What_? You suggested it! Are you telling me that was just a joke? Because I thought you meant it."

"In your dreams, Wyatt."

"Speaking of dreams," he said softly, his arms holding her more resolutely as he spoke, "I think it would be a good idea if you try to get a little sleep tonight, Lucy."

She sighed, but nodded meekly into his shoulder. "I know. I was just so high-strung when we got here, I couldn't even think about sleeping. Every time I think I have a handle on what's going on, everything gets flipped on it's head. I feel so out of it."

"It will get better, I promise." He pressed a kiss to her temple and began to rock them gently, setting a lazy tempo that would hopefully help to soothe her. "Just be patient with yourself."

She slid a hand over the fabric of his shirt before coming to a stop right above his heart. "I'll try. It's a lot easier with you around."

Her words echoed in his head long after she'd said them, overwhelming him with their significance. She had revived something in him, something that had been dormant for too many years. Something that had almost died altogether. If he could somehow return the favor - give her even the smallest semblance of peace or solace in return - he would gladly do it a thousand times over.

So he stayed in that rocking chair, keeping a steady rhythm and watching the stars above them until her head sagged further into him and her breathing had evened out at last. It was only then that he left the porch with her still curled up against his chest, stealing one last glance out at the silver-speckled sky before trading it for the cozy glow of the cabin's interior.

For all of his talk about free will and open-ended choices, Wyatt couldn't help but believe that maybe some things really were ordained, that some people were actually destined to meet each other...to even fall in love. When he crawled into bed next to Lucy and felt her reaching for him instinctively in her sleep, it was easier to imagine it; because maybe, just _maybe_ , some part of his story really was a fixed point that had been written in the stars all along.

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 _a/n: ok so this conversation about constellations has literally been in the works from the very beginning (thus the title *wink wink*), so that meant I HAD to get them somewhere with stars...? That is why this chapter had to exist. But in doing so, I also landed myself in a random time period and a random location...and I also know very little about constellations? In summary, just please overlook the fact that I relied on sketchy internet research for basically everything in this part!_

 _That said, thank you for reading! Please review!_


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